Scully "Wildchild" Vagabond
---------A phone call and a signature, that was all it took to get Wildchild out of academic prison. Two simple actions, but both formed a very heavy presence in the eyes of his mother, whom had to travel all the way from work to pick him up. She was angry to say the least, practically fuming as she tugged at the back of his sweatshirt with enough force to lift him from the ground for a few seconds. Neither spoke, neither made eye contact, they simply walked away from the school building in complete and utter silence, the only sound being the birds that twittered in the trees above the street. Wildchild glared ahead with blurred vision, tears threatening to fall but held back by his sheer stubbornness, and his breath came out heavy as he was dragged by his iron-gripped parent. Her tense handling wasn't doing wonders for him, if completely honest, his entire body was aching with injuries. Red stood out against his white tee-shirt, blood that had since stopped dripping, and his right eye had already begun to blacken and swell. A split lip filled his mouth with the taste of copper, and his cheeks were flushed with exhaustion. He truly did look like a Wildchild now, an angry, devious, delinquent. The silence grew with each rushed step, and then his mother lifted her head, raven black hair tumbling in the autumn wind, and with a tight voice she questioned,
"Why are you always picking fights?"
And Wildchild, ever so angry, let out a loud growl and spat back,
"
What's it to ya?" And instantly a hand connected with the back of his head and he was released from her grip, crumbling to the sparkling sidewalk instantly. His tongue clicked, curses bubbling to his lips but they were withheld, and instead he rose his golden eyes up to glare at the taller woman. She glared back with the same intensity, her pointed nose risen with the upmost disgust, and after a second of glares she muttered,
"I'm going back to work. Get home, now." And then with a stiff nod she turned and walked down the rest of the street, finally vanishing around the right turn. Wildchild watched her go with lips tight, and once she was out of view he stood, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva into the grass beside him. A cocky smile curled at his lips, though the split lip instantly started to ache at the slightest movement, and he began a steady stride down the hill, instantly loosing himself in thought,
Home, huh? Hell no. Helllllllll no. Don't feel like getting my ass beat tonight.He made sure to turn left, following the mostly unfamiliar suburban street with dull eyes. Unfocused eyes. Thinking helped dull the pain, though it also seemed to blind him to the rest of the world. The beautiful, fucked world. It was a nice day, cool and warm at the same time, and the musical birds tweeted above, their shadows dancing in the afternoon sun with the grace of smoke. Wildchild walked through this beauty with his hand tight around his bag and his hair shielding his bruised face, all while his mind sang with images of the things he enjoyed. Cooking. Video games. Playgrounds. Books. The good things that made his life feel okay. By the time he looked up from his happy place, though, he realized he was somewhere far beyond his small household.
"
Ah, this place..." He muttered, shoving both hands into his jean pockets as he stepped gingerly off the sidewalk and down the grassy incline, towards the hopefully empty playground at the bottom. He glanced around at the silent landscape, feeling rather at home though he had never really been in this part of town, and as he turned towards the swing sets to sit down he froze.
Someone else is here...Wildchild heard the clinking of chains, and he saw the slow moving shadow of an occupied swing move to and for in the wind. A boy, probably younger then him, sat with his mouth closed around a chocolate bar. He was
pretty, there was no other way to describe him, this kid was extremely pretty even from a profile glance. Most definitely girly. Probably adored by all the chicks in class. Or... Maybe not? He continued his long stare at the rounded face, focusing on the odd red mark under his eye. Might be a bully victim, he'd be easy prey for the asses at his school. Looking closer after that thought, Wildchild realized this kid definitely didn't go to his school, he was completely unknown. And that meant he didn't know Wildchild or his reputation.
Could he be... Friendly perhaps?Wildchild approached with
purpose burning in his eyes, and as he made his way to stand in front of this beautiful boy with his bruised and angry face thoughts filled his mind. Thoughts that he'll mess up, get attacked, get embarrassed, and they all built up within him until he finally just blurted out,
"
Your eye looks like shit."
Birdboy
CaprisunGod
Altered Tundra
