[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/sEecHYr.png[/img][/center]
[color=000000][u][b]Location[/b][/u][/color]
💀 The Sanctuary.
💀 Heading into the kitchen.

[color=000000][u][b]Interactions[/b][/u][/color]
💀 Whoever he runs into.
[hr]
It wasn’t a complete disaster. He had managed to greet two people, which in itself cemented more social interaction than the phantasmal teenager had confronted in a period of weeks. It was true that Casper arrived at The Sanctuary with the other early aspiring heroes, but other than scarce and short interactions with Zach, or Zatara as he so fancied, the Wraithborn had not made his presence known to any notable degree. 

In truth, the constant talk of heroism, the Justice League, and fighting the good fight felt somewhat alien to him. It was fair to claim that Casper’s attention had been primarily aimed at those beyond the veil of life. It was, after all, how he had made himself known to Zatanna and Constantine. A mysterious figure stalking the darkness of unlife, putting an end to hauntings and shielding innocent spirits from vicious beasts, and Necromantic spellcasters. Indeed, Casper certainly had an area of expertise. A point of focus. However, Zatanna made sure to inform the boy of his potential, how he could very well stand between the threshold of life and death, similar to a certain [i]’Deadman’[/i] Casper had heard of more than once. They were still to meet, however. 

Equally so, it was folly to assume that those of a darker nature were unwelcome amongst this most colorful gathering of exceptional individuals. A girl with a red jewel centered in her forehead arguably carried an even larger stigma than Casper. The daughter of a demon, [i]Trigon.[/i] Speaking of demons, Batman himself was trained beneath a man calling himself the head of one. Dark roots ran deep, and it was short-sighted to believe that Casper’s situation was any different. Others didn’t view him with discomfort because of his abilities, or even his past, would they have known of it. Rather, this hailed entirely from his nature as an undead being, of which he did not fault them. 

[color=FFE4C4]”I’ll..,”[/color] Casper began, turning his attention towards the corridor, [color=FFE4C4]”...see you guys later..,”[/color] he finished, before weightless steps began distancing him from Zach and Jack. His destination was the kitchen, for Casper possessed a guilty pleasure. He did not require food, but the taste of soda had wrapped itself around him with an iron grip. The Wraithborn recalled how his mentor, Zatanna, had called it endearing. No matter what, young adults such as Casper would always find themselves drawn to sweets. Not even the grave could push for an exception. 

“So, where are we going, chief?” Coal asked, hopping to the Wraithborn’s shoulder, “had your fill? Gonna’ find a coffin to hide in?” 

[color=FFE4C4]”I need a drink..,”[/color] came a response, clawed hands slipping into the pockets of Casper’s oversized hoodie. Where Zatanna and Zach were both quite well known for their propensity towards flamboyant regalia, the undead entity felt far more comfortable in cargo pants, canvas shoes, and a simple shirt, cloth of which was clearly baggy upon his scrawny frame. This would further bleed into Casper’s refusal to wear a super suit. He claimed that nothing quite fit him, and of course, believed that only those considering themselves heroes would buy into the concept. The latter was something he had kept to himself, however. Needless to say, it was impossible for Casper to hide his identity. Suit or not, the boy’s appearance would not allow for a double life.

“You don’t [i]need[/i] a drink, Zombie Boy, you’re just addicted,” the bird added. 

[color=FFE4C4]”Whatever..,”[/color] a fittingly short response from the Wraithborn as he continued down a seemingly endless corridor on route to the kitchen.

“Like, when you drink that shit, someone who actually [i]needs[/i] it can’t have it!” Coal put forth a notable argument. It was true that Casper’s indulgence in nourishment was a fruitless endeavor, and that every bite of food swallowed, every drink enjoyed was enveloped by irrelevance. 

[color=FFE4C4]”Who the fuck [i]needs[/i] a soda, Coal..?”[/color] Casper raised a brow, ghostly eyes turning towards the avian on his shoulder.

“Thirsty people. Cas’! Thirsty people!” It was the end of the argument, moments before Casper eventually stepped into the kitchen, and a headache struck. A piercing sensation, one which remained present for a split second before promptly vanishing. With an alarmed expression, the Wraithborn nearly fell to a knee, clawed hands rising to grasp at his temples. A single word echoed throughout the boy’s mind, something entirely divorced from the conversation he had endured, and the surrounding world. A whisper once there, and then gone.

[color=000000][b][i]"C̵̪͇̹͖̠̦͓̞̍̅ȁ̷̫̰̣̺̘̹̌s̷̫̋̐͋͋̆͊̕͝͝͝p̶̞̌̃̀̈̄͋̇̀͌̕e̷͓͉̥͆́̀̑̉̔̚͠͠r̸̞̟̯͕͖͈͊̈̌̄̄̄̈́̏̇.̶͉̒̊̈͝.̶̩͖̭̍̇͒͑.̶̮̋"[/i][/b][/color]