Page is a WIP
All around me darkness gathers; fading is the sun that shone.
We must speak of other matters; you can be me when I’m gone.
Flowers gathered in the morning, afternoon they blossom on.
Still are withered in the evening; you can be me when I’m gone.
Legion
ˈlējən
a vast host, multitude, or number of people or things.
great in number.
A man known by many names, seen as many entities, existing in many places.
But also, a man.
Legion does not know when he began. If asked, he could not tell you who (what) he is. Legion is a plaything to the devil. He is an older brother to twin demons. He is an (ex)lover of the god Apep. He is the best friend of Time itself; immortal, to a point. He can die. He just won’t stay dead.
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Where do you begin with a man who has no history? Or, rather, with a man who has no beginning?
Legion was not really… ‘born.’ One could say he was created, but it is more accurate to say he just appeared one day, bursting through the shadows like bats from a cave. He was probably around at the very crest of time, although no one could say for sure – not even himself, as he has no memory of his early life. Sometimes he remembers little things during quiet, lonely nights, like the vast, empty feeling of stillness before there was wind, or the feeling of endless wind before there were trees and land and water to disrupt it. His memories escape him, though. There’s so much to remember when you’re so old.
He knows he had made a home in Hell, before there was a devil. He believes, perhaps wrongly, that Hell once belonged to him, that he created it to live in when there was nowhere else to exist. He had been a ruler, once. A creator of things and places. An amorphous creature with powers beyond comprehension.
But now, he is just a man.
He knows also that he became a favorite toy of Lucifer’s when the angel fell from Heaven and stole Hell from him, guided by the power of a god Legion didn’t worship. He lived and he died. He reincarnated. He was at the mercy of the whims of the Lightbringer. That is, until Legion made the decision to adopt two unbearably annoying, mischievous, obnoxious little twin demons as his sisters. Creatures so exhausting and so unwilling to die and stay dead that they were banished from Hell to walk the Earth, Legion with them. Of course, he was welcome back any time. Without them.
Legion’s time on earth, some might say, has been rocky. Though his sisters were by his side for some of it, he was more often alone, and preferred it that way. Having no place to go, he wandered the earth for millenia. It’s hard to kill a creature like him, and he simply kept on living, never aging. Falling in love and out of it. The thing about living so much life for so long, is that you often become bitter. And if you don’t become bitter, you love more deeply than anyone you could ever know. Legion has been both of these people.
There is a lot of life to fit into the story of him. His most recent escapade ended, like most of the others, in tragedy. Deeply, madly, painfully in love with Apep, the god of chaos, he had chosen a life for himself at the side of the snake, against the Sun God, desperate for the life they could build together. No one had done for him what Apep had. He had felt rescued. Hell, the god had eaten Lucifer. For him.
And then, Apep died.
Or, rather, he was killed. Destroyed by his own family, murdered for his plot against the Sun. Legion fell into disrepair. He grieved in the only way he knew how: withering away. A catatonic state. Becoming one with the shadows. Starving to death.
Oh, death. Oh, what bliss.
When Legion dies, he changes. Over time, over many deaths, his memory fades away, until he remembers only a couple of his past lives. He takes a new name, a new appearance, and begins life anew. Sometimes with the memories and personality of his previous self. Often, there are alterations. He remembers Apep. Remembers the muscle of arms around him while they stood upon the beach. Remembers the elation he felt when Apep asked him if they shouldn’t live together, in a towering castle in the middle of the Irish moors, away from each of their troubles. Remembers the fear and exhilaration he felt as the god pressed a knife to his neck in a playful, sadistic manner. He remembers that their love burned quick and fast and hot, not like a candle but like a struck match. Knows that now, it’s over. Now, his name has changed. His face, too. Knows he is no longer the same.
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Legion Lucifai
He doesn’t know what he is, but he calls himself a demon. After all, he is not the devil, and he is from hell. With no other words to describe him, and with striking similarities to other creatures of the same name, this is how he prefers to identify. After all, Legion eats humans to survive. Blood, bones, skin, soul and all. What is more demonic than that?
Legion can go a very long time without food, if he trains for it. Typically, he prefers to eat every couple of weeks. In previous lives, when he was stronger and when he had more power, he could live for years, even decades at a time without consuming anything. These days, he is not the same creature he was then, and he simply must have nourishment, or he becomes ravenous and weak. When not consuming food for sustenance, however, Legion prefers sweet things to eat. Human food does nothing for him, except that he likes the taste of it. Ice cream is his favorite.
In the same vein, human vices do nothing for him except act as a comfort. Legion smokes because it hurts his lungs. He drinks because it burns. If he does enough of one drug, he will begin to feel something.
Legion appears to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stands at a moderate 6’3 when he looks like a human. Sometimes, he appears to be shorter. Though he does have a demonic form, he has found very little reason to actually use it, and so it remains essentially useless to him. His hair is the deepest brown; without direct sunlight, it appears black. His skin is ghostly pale, and his nails are often black and mildly pointed. He prefers the aesthetics of black clothing to almost all else, though he will sport a white shirt now and again, if the vibe calls for it. The only thing about his appearance that doesn’t change with his reincarnations are his eyes. They are black through and through, from pupil to sclera, with only a thin red ring around his iris. He sports deep bruising beneath his eyes, dark purple and blue, the bruising of a lobotomy victim. He hides his eyes beneath sunglasses for the part. Once upon a time, he had wings.
Legion is a playful and somewhat sarcastic character. Most often, he comes off as aloof and flirtatious (both things he actually is) but with a temper. He tries very hard to keep his cool, but it is in his demonic nature to run hot. He is exceptionally kind until he isn’t, playful to an alarming degree, and enjoys spending time with animals.
Legion is a musician. Actually, the better description of him would probably be a singer. He fell into the job after giving up his position in a large local drug ring, realizing that the high of performing on a stage for an enraptured crowd vastly outweighed selling drugs to rich snobs. Legion craves the attention of an enamored audience. His pop-punk style of both music and clothing earns him plenty of fans, and the tabloid stories of his rendezvous with both men and women keep them interested. His fanbase is small, and though he is considered more underground than mainstream, the fans are loyal. He has gained a cult following over the years. It is said that his music can change lives. People leave the concerts feeling more pleasured than when they came in. The feeling, they say, is addicting.
He lives in a London flat by himself. When not preparing for a performance, Legion often sleeps his days away and stalks out into the dark for the London nightlife. His natural way of consuming food is very conducive to night owl behavior.
Fun Facts:
Likes
Cats, flowers, sharp things, ice cream, shitty Chinese food, most men, fierce and powerful women, arguably bad animated movies, rain, the cold, cigarettes, bonfire smoke, iced coffee, scalding hot showers, blatant flirting, the taste of Vampire blood
Dislikes
Most dogs, most animal meat, hot coffee, yelling matches, vibrant colors, licorice, bitter foods, loneliness, injustice
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NPCs that often show up in Legion’s stories. Some of these characters I have written separately and others are only ever written with the purpose of advancing plot for Legion.
Anna
Legion’s manager and a siren. Anna has been around for as long as Legion has been making music. He saved her once, and since then they have been close friends. When he decided to quit his drug business and pursue music instead, Anna was the first to support his decision and help him grow his presence in the music industry. He doesn’t make any career decisions without her input. She manages all of his appointments, from modeling to interviews to concerts. Although she is a strict manager, she would never put Legion in a position that is too uncomfortable for him. She loves him dearly and would give her life for him. Anna is married to a gorgon woman, Navy.
Aki
Legion’s little sister. Aki presents herself as a thirteen year old girl with white skin, long black hair (picture The Ring), and a thin, emaciated body. She has fascinating eyes – silver most of the time, but opalescent when she’s using powers. She has no interest in love, relationships, or even, really, friendships. She is as creepy as a child can get, and although she appears as a teenager, her behavior often makes her seem much younger. It is important to note that despite this appearance, Aki is almost as old as her brother. She is the definition of evil and annoying. She loves causing mischief, murdering people (and animals!), and terrorizing humans. She carries around a puppet-like doll with her who holds a scythe called Mr. Happy. Some people say Mr. Happy is alive.
Aki is the twin sister of Keller, a beautiful blond-haired banshee. Aki loves her sister and her brother more than anything else in the world. Unlike Legion, she will kill upon the slightest inconvenience.
(Aki is my own character, but Keller is not, so she is not available to write or play at all.)
Lucifer
The devil. The lightbringer. The morningstar. Lucifer has always had an obsession with the demon. Their relationship is complicated. Legion is branded with Lucifer’s sigil, although what the angel really wants with him is hard to say for sure. Once upon a time, Legion was stronger than Lucifer, held more power over him. Now? Well, now it’s the other way around. Legion is Lucifer’s slave. Lucifer uses him as a toy, a sexual release, a punching bag.
Apep did eat him. Although Lucifer can regenerate and is immortal, it will take a while for him to return.
Uriel
In the 1980s, Legion (who went by a different name, Cassius) was considered a growing rockstar to rival other large bands at the time. He had the stage presence, the appearance, and gave just enough of a glance into his life that tabloids and fans thought he was scandalous and fascinating. However, all of that changed after he met Uriel. A man who had come to his shows, wormed his way into the demon’s life, and eventually into his heart. But Uriel’s intentions were cruel. Slowly, he dismantled everything Cassius had worked for, including his house, his job, and his friends. Uriel wanted the man all to himself, and he succeeded. After this, the tables turned. The sweet man Cassius thought he knew shed his skin to show a monster beneath it. Everything about him was swift, abusive, vicious. Cassius had never been more terrified of an angel.
Their break up was hard and left him with nothing. It almost ended his life. Uriel, being an angel, is equally as immortal as Legion, though the demon hasn’t seen Uriel since their relationship ended. Some pieces of it still haunt him, especially knowing that, somewhere, Uriel is lurking.
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About the Writer:
Hi! My name is Micajah (they/them). I'm 28 and a grad student in Library Science. I've been writing since 2007 (16 years!!!) but have had a rocky last few years. I haven't consistently written since 2020ish. You might know me from Rolepages or Faeries and Vampires (if you're OG)!
This is my second account :) Other account: https://wrealms.com/members/themoon
I am open to new roleplay threads
Threads are Open
Writer's Writing Style (OOC)
Paragraph, Multi-Para
Writer's Favored Genres (OOC)
Fantasy, Romance, Violence, Rated R, 18+, Gore, Action, Adventure
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Roger & Legion
The next morning was off to a rather difficult start.
After his drinking session at the pub none other than Mad Jack's, his father's own establishment, Roger found himself laying in his bed, safe and sound but feeling terribly worse for the wear. His memories of the prior night's events were foggy and he wasn't given much time to contemplate how he'd ended up inside his apartment and fully dressed nonetheless, because as soon as he sat upright he felt very ill. The poor man bounded for the bathroom and was sick in it for several minutes, and only once the worst of it was over and he was resting on the couch did he get a chance to think back on what had actually happened to him.
This was a hangover, no doubt. He'd been through enough of those in his life to recognize it. The night before had involved rushing to shelter because of a rainstorm and buying drinks had ironically followed due to his discovery of where he'd ended up. Roger recalled mingling with a stranger with a funny name, and a peculiar appearance to boot. Hadn't he broken something important of his?
Everything beyond those particular details was a blur, leaving Roger trying to fill in the blanks for himself. He was at home, which meant somebody had to have taken him there. Had one of his acquaintances run into him and offered him a lift back? Was it the odd stranger who'd done it? Both of these options would have made perfect sense except Roger had never given anyone the keys to his apartment. The real mystery here was how on Earth the other person had gotten inside to drop him off in his room.
But right now, Roger was too miserable to seriously brainstorm any decent theories. So, he reclined on the sofa with a hand rested upon his stomach and a soothing cup of chamomile tea sitting beside him, and he sort of stared sullenly into space while waiting for the answers to somehow come to him on their own.
Seems the incessant no's she was giving to him was enough to make him back off of her a little bit. Good. She needed a breather after this whole experience with him. Perhaps she could get some rest now that he was leaving. Her shift tomorrow was early, and she already pissed the night away eating pizza with this demon.
In the window sill, he brought up finding him again if she needed him. Raising a hand to him, before dropping it when he fell out of the window with grace, leaving her within the silence of her abandoned abode. Finally...some quiet.
It would be a lie to say that she didn't already kind of miss the conversation...
Pleasant, nonetheless.
-/-
A few days seemed to have drifted by the rise and fall of the sun, without any word exchanged between the two.
Ryan had been busy with her job, having been distracted by both returning faces, and ones that were new to the bustling city that brought nothing but tourists and trouble. At least they paid decent for the experience.
There was this overlaying thought in her mind during this time...she wondered what Legion was doing?
Thursday Night...
That's when shit hit the fan.
The Avian had been spotted by a contract hire of ITEX, hired to watch the block she was working out of. When leaving her shift, they were ready to collect her. Lucky for her, she was built strand by strand to be better than the hires coming for her.
With a snap around the corner of club, Ryan sprinted, through groups of people trying to take photos of the city and neon signs. Worn sneakers slapping against the concrete of the back alley, using her elbows to smash full dumpsters into the way of the men hunting her down in the path she was taking. Flying would be risky, as everything was cramping around her, the brick walls growing thinner the closer she got to the end of alley. It appeared as if she didn't have much of a choice in terms of her escape.
Just when this thought occured in her head, she came up along the end of the path, where one of the men was waiting, clothes-lining the Avian with an arm thrown in her way, his forearm hitting her right in the throat. Her body came to an immediate stop as she coughed and gasped inwards, her spine hitting the pavement below her. Staring with wide blue eyes as she began to scramble with the three men piling on top of her to try and keep her down enough to force these metal like cuffs on her arms and legs.
In a form of desperation, feathered wings were thrown open, which forced two off of her, the last moving himself backwards to get a grip of the weapon strapped to his back. He was prepared for this moment.
Ryan, still trying to gasp in a full lung full of oxygen, turned on to her hands and knees, spreading her wings wide as she could, before blasting off of the ground and into the air of the crisp night, sensing her freedom was coming to her. However, she wasn't going to get away that easily.
Below her, the man who had not been scared away so easily had taken aim, the sight laying across the back of the experiment flying away from them over the tall buildings. The weapon having been modified enough to shoot such a range, to maim this pesky bird enough to strap her up and ship her off.
All she had was a second to react, hearing an ear piercing pop, and a whizzing sound, before hot metal pierced into the back of her left wing, straight through the center. A gush of crimson sprays forth from the wound, and the direction of the bullet, followed by a handful of down feathers. The woman cried out in surprise, as her body seizing up briefly to direct her course into another direction. She began to sink downwards into the ground at high speeds from how high she had intially ascended. Ryan's wing began to flap around in order to try and get herself into a glide. but the appendage was completely useless at her side, folding up lifelessly against the front of her, while the other wing desperately tried to keep her from hitting the ground.
Bending her head back, she heard another pop before that same fiery pain entered, yet didn't exit the shoulder that paired with the wing that was hit the first round. Another pained sound escaping her chest, as she began to spiral down...her form being hidden from the third shot, shielded behind a skyscraper, as the bullet crashed through the windows and imbedded within the walls of office it had struck into.
Ryan didn't have the strength to force herself to half fly to somewhere that wasn't here. Instead...she let herself fall, and let the fates decide where she was going to land.
-/-
Seems fate had a funny way of toying with her.
Her body had half slammed into the concrete of a drainage system that was tagged so heavily with graffiti from the skaters that rode their boards there in the daytime. Crackling the pavement beneath the pressure from her fall, and soaking her body with the puddle she half splashed into, soaking the front of her clothes with mud and rain water.
It took five minutes for her to will herself out of the muck, and into a sitting position, one hand reaching back to hold on to her shoulder, feeling the familiar wet and warm sensation of blood that was beginning to fester there. Other hand's nails clawed briefly at her jeans pocket, fishing for her phone...hopefully not broken into shards from the impact. Thankfully...it wasn't too bad, the case having protected it from the initial hit to the cement.
Staring at her reflection in the blank, dark screen, and seeing the specks of blood that littered her once beautiful features. She looked like a monster, despite it being her own blood coating her.
Tapping her thumb across the blank screen to bring it to life, and swiping to unlock it...
She tapped his name, bringing the phone up to her ear with a wince and a hiss of pain leaving her gritted teeth. What else was she supposed to do? The thrum of the tone ringing in her ear made her stomach fold, feeling the bile building in her throat.
If he answered or not, the message was going to be the same.
"...I need help."
A siren? Mermaids? Snakes? It was all lost on Legacy. She couldn’t decide if Bee was speaking of her own imagination or if that’s what her mothers actually planned for her. She didn’t know enough about gorgons, besides the snakes in their hair and Medusa. Navy didn’t have snakes in her hair. Maybe it was a glamor or some magical ward that kept them hidden. Or mayne she simply didn’t have them — they could very well be just part of the legends themselves.
Legacy watched Bee's antics with a warm smile, feeling a sense of joy she hadn't experienced in a long time. The little girl's energy was infectious, and Legacy found herself giggling along with Bee's infectious laughter. She nodded along as Bee explained her future plans, a mermaid and maybe a cat, and Legacy couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. To be so carefree, to have such a bright future ahead...
But Legacy pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present. She watched as Bee asked Navy for permission to go play outside, her eyes flicking towards the window looking outside. She hoped Navy would say yes - the fresh air and sunshine would do Bee good, and Legacy herself could use a break from the confines of the house. Her thoughts wandered, lost in a sea of memories.
When Bee emerged with the pink tinted glasses, Legacy chuckled. "Clever," she said, nodding in approval. "You'll be safe with me around. No foxes." Heck no. Her time as a cat meant she trusted no fox. They would just as surely grab a cat as they would a mouse. They were not to be trusted. Her fingers flexed; once upon a time she’d raked her claws across their ugly muzzles.
She watched as Bee bounced off towards the mudroom, feeling a sense of excitement build in her chest. She hadn't played outside like a normal child in... well, ever. But with Bee, she felt like maybe she could, just for a little while.
Following Bee, Legacy slipped off her shoes in the mudroom and stepped out into the chilly autumn air. She made a point to snatch up Bee’s jacket in case she did get cold. She breathed deeply, feeling the crisp breeze fill her lungs. The backyard was larger than she'd expected. Legacy's eyes landed on the foxes, who were watching from a distance. She felt a flicker of unease but pushed it aside. She wouldn't let them ruin her time with Bee. She charged at them, causing them to scurry away.
"Okay, little warrior," Legacy said, turning to Bee. "What shall we play first?" She grinned, feeling a sense of freedom she hadn't felt in a long while. Today, she was just a friend, playing with a little girl in the sunshine.
Their conversation so far was amusing, chuckling at Legion’s reaction to his little comments. Vanitas took a few sips of his drink all the while, preferring to savor the favors, glancing back just in time to see how the other downed his drink so quickly. It left the nephalem in a bit of shock, and as always his emotions very easily showed on his face. Was he thirsty? Vanitas gave Legion a perplexed look for a few moments, wondering if he should offer him another beverage. Then again, he didn’t want him to think that he was attempting to get him drunk or something. Perhaps it was best to just act like that was normal.
Besides, their conversation took another interesting turn when Legion asked about his former job - and again that mischievous smile of his returned. Usually people assumed or guessed what type of dancer he was, but either way the other seemed genuinely curious. "A stripper." There was no shame or embarrassment with what Vanitas used to do - he enjoyed the lifestyle, the attention, and the money was a nice cherry on top. "It was more of a fun hobby to me than a job. All eyes on you as you’re living in the moment, then you get to take their money. Sometimes I miss the thrill, and shopping around for the skimpiest outfit possible." Vanitas said the last part with another chuckle as he kept his gaze on Legion, raising his eyebrow at the next question.
For a moment Vanitas pondered on how he should answer - it wasn’t like either of them were human, so he assumed that the truth wouldn’t cause much harm. Well, unless Legion was one of those demons that despised angels - but he didn’t seem like the type. "Unfortunately, I was born and raised in Heaven." He said while pointing upward with his index finger, but per usual mentioning home brought up bad memories - and his smile soon turned into an annoyed pout. "I’m sure you can guess that it’s not what humans make it out to be, it would be a decent place if it was." Vanitas rolled his eyes at the thought, though he didn’t want Legion to potentially feel bad for souring his mood. "What about you though? Are you local, or do you come from a special place too?" If the nephalem had to guess, it was likely the latter - that hellish accent was hard to miss.
His smile gradually returned as their conversation continued, listening to Legion while taking the last sip of his drink - and almost choked when the other mentioned having problems with angels in the past. Oof, that was bad timing since Vanitas just confirmed he was one of them. Albeit, half angelic - but still. He turned away for a moment, regaining his composure before looking back over. "Aw, well look at that.~ Something else we have in common then." His jovial tone returned as well as his curiosity skyrocketed. "You must have done something extra naughty to attract their attention." He teased, but was also curious to hear how Legion might respond.
do u wann roleplay for a few min
It wasn't that she wasn't the violent type, she could very much be violent when it suited her; such was the nature of the beast and all. Werewolves were volatile without adding in magic to the equation. No, it was simply that given he'd apologised; she saw no reason to completely lose her temper. That definitely wouldn't always be the case.
"Good." She tilted her head, somewhat amused by how gentle he sounded. It was perhaps the last thing one expected to think in conjunction with one of his kind; and yet she couldn't argue it. She shook her head a moment later, as if to clear it of those thoughts; she wasn't one to stereotype other beings, even if a lot of the times those stereotypes were incredibly fitting.
"Legion? That's a somewhat interesting name." Her tone was soft, almost curious sounding. Could there perhaps be a story behind the choice of name? And if there was...no no he probably wouldn't share it with her. She pushed the thought away, pathological curiosity be damned. This was one instance where she was going to ignore it.
Her shoulders tensed for a moment, tension wiring through her whole frame, until she forcibly made herself relax. It was was a knee jerk reaction and one she was trying very hard not to be obvious about. "Yeah... you could say that." She chuckled bitterly, a sort of hardness taking root in her gaze. "No... they aren't. Not at all." The words came out mumbled, even as she deliberately forbid herself from thinking yet again about the horrific things humans did...had done... to people she cared about. With a bleak sigh; her shoulders slumped. "I can't say I've ever encountered the good kind..."
Her eyes seemed to turn to the side to look at him as his sarcasm with tart on the tongue. They rolled briefly as she sat back, enjoying the feeling of her bed despite its origins. Falling back with a bounce from the springs on the mattress. Her brims blew out a sigh. "Listen, I'm safe here, I promise. No one comes back here. Technically I'm tresspassing, but they can't catch me, so.."
Her arms spread themselves out to her sides, enjoying the comfort that her little home gave her. "Security is not the issue. I don't trust just anyone..." There was a pause in her words as she scrunched up her nose. "...You are the only exception, it seems. Don't let that get to your head."
Only turning her head to the side to gaze at him, her lashes half lidding her eyes. "Besides, I have everything I need here. A bed, privacy, and I even have running water.....maybe don't drink it, though..."
A slight smirk, wanting to get him to relax some, seeing he was really tight in the shoulders about all of this. His saviour complex was starting to annoy her a bit. She wasn't some little girl; she had been on her own for such a long time, she knew what was best for her.
"...Shouldn't you be heading home? Don't you have some friends that will notice you are missing for way too long?"
Thank you for adding me Le <3 Thought we were already friends lol
Legacy's eyes sparkled with delight as she took in the vibrant drawing spread before her. The little girl's interpretation of herself and Legion radiated joy and creativity, warming Legacy's heart. "Oh, Bee, this is absolutely wonderful!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with genuine admiration. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia washed over her. She couldn't help but wonder...if her own daughter had lived, would she have possessed a similar spark of creativity? Would she have spent hours lost in drawing and storytelling, bringing vivid worlds to life with colored pencils and wild imagination? "You're quite the budding artist, aren't you?" The drawing was crude in the way children's art often is, but Legacy felt touched that she had made such an impact on the young girl in so short a time. “You’ll have to show Legion when he gets back.”
Legacy studied the drawing again, this time with a different purpose. She reached out her hand, and magic thrummed around them like a third heartbeat. The cat Bee had drawn slowly peeled off the paper. It shook itself as it stood, its drawn features remaining unchanged, yet it seemed alive. The cat climbed harmlessly up Bee's arm, stopping to nuzzle its face against the curve of her neck. Then the butterflies left the page, their drawn wings fluttering before taking flight. They danced around Bee's face, one even landing on her nose. The little trick lasted for a few enchanting minutes before the drawings slowly returned to the page, merging seamlessly back into the picture. Everything was exactly as it had been.
“If you keep practicing,” Legacy said with a sparkle in her chocolate-colored eyes, “You might become a famous artist! Unless you want to be something else when you grow up?” Most children knew, although it was liable to change day to day.
“I have to keep practicing my magic, just as you do with your art,” Legacy explained. “So that I can be a decent witch one day.” The little parlor tricks were nothing substantial, but they used to be the only source of entertainment she could get. Bringing her art to life had been an amazing way to distract herself when she had needed it most. Now? Well, it was just a neat little trick.
“I have a pretty good imagination. If this drawing has anything to say about it, I would guess you do too.” Legacy tilted her head. She placed her tablet on the farther side of the coffee table, along with her notebook. “I did tell you I would play with you. So what do you say? Want to do something? We can play here or outside, whichever you prefer. Maybe we can play pretend? You know, like Bluey?” She flicked her gaze towards the TV again. It looked like Bluey and her sister were acting out some sort of adventure. “Maybe you're a Princess ruling over some far away land — perhaps ruling over all your toys?” She looked put at the array of toys littering the ground. She could picture them clearly coming to life. “Maybe someone evil has kidnapped your favorite toys, and we have to try to get them back!” Legacy wiggled her fingers, allowing a harmless mental connection that whisked Bee away to said enchanted kingdom of her choosing. Another simple parlor trick; one she had used to escape harsher realities in life, back in the day. They were still in the living room, but her magic made the imagination stronger. Tangible. As if they were really there.
She stole a look at the stuffed cat. “Or, maybe you're an apprentice cat from the Clans, training to be the best warrior you can be — or a medicine cat, if you prefer.” Now they stood in a lush green forest with towering trees. The sound of a river humming nearby filled their ears while their senses were filled with the scent of wilderness. They both remained as they were — Bee’s own imagination would have to take root to change her form, be it cat or princess.
“Or, perhaps you’d like to act out your favorite story?” The forest melted away back to the familiar living room. “Whatever you want. Or we can play something else. However,” her lips twitched. “If you'd rather work on your art, that’s fine too.” She could work on getting Agatha’s message decoded if that were the case. Whatever Bee picked, it was a win for Legacy.
Ryan wasn't sure how to react when he apologized. She wasn't sure what someone's reaction would be other than that, to be honest. It wasn't something you hear everyday. She could imagine how she would react if someone told her they were sold for drug money: gobsmacked.
But, then again, she wasn't the best example.
Two feathered appendages seemed to unfurl from behind her jacket, giving a brief flap to spread some crumbled plumage from its current state. Her eyes casted over his shoulder when he spoke, despite the blankness in his tone, she could hear how much he wanted to do this for her. A roll of her hues before she turned to face him, giving a brief flap, before extending her hand out towards the other. "You haven't even seen the inside yet. C'mon."
When he would take her hand, those two wings gave a strong strike downwards, floating them into the air for a moment, before another sent them up three floors, and onto the fire escape, where an open window rested, the cool breeze flowing into the room. Dropping his hand from her own.
Ducking her head, she stepped through the window, and hopping off the window sill onto the worn carpet before.
The room wasn't messy, maybe only the sheets on the bed being shifted around and not made. And the peeling wallpaper, but nothing too crazy. Ryan had stepped her way over to one of the beds, and sat herself down on the end, taking off her sneakers from her tired feet.
"..Make yourself comfortable if you want. I promise the sheets are clean. I bought them the other day."
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