Stealing Yourself: A Crime or Not a Crime? | Day 4, Late Evening [OPEN]

[familicide]

There were, he had determined over the last four days, three fundamental truths about himself.

One, that he had a place and a purpose. Those were the most clear and most solid truths in his head, by virtue of being the first of the very few truths he had. They had been real when he had opened eyes that were not quite his eyes and saw his world, narrow as it was, and himself, his real self, utterly foreign and utterly familiar to him

Two, that item one was somehow wrong. There was more, more that he couldn't dash from his mind or excuse away or deny, no matter how long he had dwelled on it. Something more, something more; the thoughts would rob him of sleep if he hadn't discovered the first night that he didn't need to sleep at all.

And three, that he wasn't to move. He moved only when wound; he moved only when allowed.

It had taken three more days to work through the thorny, deeply ingrained aversion that had latched into his mind and refused to leave. Even on the night of the fourth day, in the quiet hours of what would rightly be early morning, there was something akin to nausea rolling in the pit of his belly when he walked - walked, not stalked about like some kind criminal - into the library and up to the rows of display shelves.

He was still there, glittering in the muted light, scales attractively iridescent, eyes aglow with a matching fire.

He shuddered, right down to his core, and a harsh sickness caught in his throat, but he picked himself up anyway, carefully cradling him in his arms before turning abruptly on his heel, marching back toward the exit.

[[OOC: A certain possession is making off with himself! That is, a clockwork dragon whelp about as big as a cat, immobile and a bit delicate-looking. This is open only to one! c: ]]

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[peafowl]

The pink peacock made an annoyed noise that sounded somewhat like the squawk of an actual peacock and crossed her arms. The blue peacock scowled at her and said, "it's rude to try to check out people when they can see what you're doing, darling."

The pink peacock cringed and finally folded her tail.

"I wasn't checking him out like that," she said. "Was just curious what the hell he is."

The blue peacock ignored her and spoke to the dragon, "oh, have many encyclopaedias awoken? That'd be rather handy. But what are you doing running off? Afraid someone will knock you off a shelf, darling?"

He raises an eyebrow at the dragon and smiles. He's teasing, but not trying to be mean.

[familicide]

He knew he shouldn't ask. He couldn't have cared less, to be entirely honest, and these two were both irritating, a roadbump (...curious. How did he know what word?), and somewhat confusing besides. He should have just ignored it and moved on, but in the end his eyes flicked to the pink peacock and he found himself asking:

"Like what?" He asked, because he genuinely did not know. "What are you checking? What for?"

He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his arms. "If you must know, it is because I've seen more damage to this house over the last few days than it has probably endured in a century. There is a very good chance I'll be set aflame, or crushed, or stolen without my knowledge."