Welcome to Gaia! ::

Writ caught the door as it closed, and slipped in quietly. There was a new scent, accompanied with an unfamiliar aura, and that was all the motivation he needed to investigate. It seemed that Spring was the time that all the new players came out and played, and Writ took that as an opportunity to get acquainted with the newbies. It was a time to form alliances, scare them out of their wits, and in Writ's case, doing them at the same time.

Okay, the scent wasn't terribly unfamiliar. The kid's scent was smoky soot smell that Writ vaguely recalled last summer. Whoever the new kid was, they were probably under the radar, just like Marcus was. They've been around for a while, they just decided to choose now as a good time to come out and make their bid on the game.

Their timing couldn't be any worse.

Nonetheless, Writ was the self-appointed welcoming committee of these wayward godlings, and as per his duty, he was required to scare the s**t out of them. He padded down the hallway, stalking the new godling, waiting for the opportune time. When they stopped into the living space of Vale's hideout, he grabbed the new guy by both shoulders and yelled,

"SAVEDYOURLIFE!".

Writ was going to have to figure out a new gag for sneaking up on people. This was the second time he had gotten attacked by someone he snuck up behind. At least Writ was prepared to take the blow this time, he staggered back a few steps, but he was relatively alright.

Perhaps it was the obvious yelling at the top of his lungs that triggers the sudden need to punch him in the chest. Writ would have to work that out later.

"Hm... Where did I come from?" Writ looked up at the ceiling, "We're in a building, so I would guess I would've came from a door." He was obviously messing with the new kid.

"'Tricksy' is what I do." Writ smiled, "Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't."

"Writ." He took Seamus' hand, "If there was a title for bothering that cat, I probably got it." He smiled.

Writ waved off the apology, "Don't worry bout' it, you aren't the first one to do that. Lotta players are pretty 'high strung' around here." He tilted his head, "I know I saw you somewhere before..."

The vague recollection of the summer party slowly began to creep up into Writ's memory, then he figured it out, "Oh, I remember you now, you were at that party last summer, right?"

"There's a certificate? I haven't gotten mine in the mail yet, but it's such an achievement, yes..." Writ said like the mock-gentleman he was, rubbing an invisible goatee, with his nose up high, graduating from the community school of bothering kittens was serious business. He looked at Seamus and snorted a giggle. He had a feeling that this was the beginning of an awesome relationship.

"Oh, you know, just around the neighborhood." Writ shrugged. No point in telling him that the only reason he came in was the fact that he sensed a godling to scare.

"You know, speaking of kitty, he never mentioned you," Writ rubbed his invisible goatee again, "I didn't feel anything when I first saw you though. You're one of those late-bloomers, huh?"

"Age is pretty relative nowadays."

If Seamus was a late-bloomer, that would put him in the older spectrum of players. Despite Writ's seamless change from child to adult over the span of two years, some strands of childhood remained, like a pesky age hierarchy that pops into his mind every now and then. The child in his head reminded him that if he didn't look so old, he wouldn't be hanging around with guys like Seamus, probably because guys like Seamus would look uncool if they were hanging out with twelve year olds.

"But, if you want to know, I'm thirteen." Writ lied. At least, he thought he lied, something told him otherwise. His grasp on his own age was beginning to grow weaker. He shrugged it off.

"So what god decided to make your life interesting? Pretty subtle one I bet, the last kid I saw had a freaking elephant trunk for a nose."

Writ chuckled at the height comment, "You got no idea."

"What is that, Chinese?" Writ wasn't quite sure. He kind of expected a Chinese god to pick a- well, Chinese person.

The name didn't ring a bell. Writ's mythology was rather rusty beyond the comic book fodder that was the Greek and Norse pantheons. Marcus' god was pretty mysterious, and Quinn's god, Quaztl-whatsit, was way over his knowledge.

"Speaking of kitty, how is he?" He asked, "Thought I'd find him around here, but I guess not."

"Yeah, I bet I could put a smile on that guy's face. Or disturb him more. I have that kind of effect on him, you know." Writ was sure Seamus knew, Vale's little panic attack at the fourth of July party was definitely not a quiet affair.

He was being generous by giving Seamus a fair warning. Asking Writ to do something was, like everything else about him, a risk. Usually, he would conveniently "forget" about that aspect about him until he's actually doing the job.

Writ plopped himself on a couch, which he quickly regretted when he felt a part of his spine crack. He stood up and saw that the couch was that wicker creature that Vale bought a few months back.

"Man, the Game does some strange things to people. Take this couch for instance", Writ kicked the wicker monster, "No ordinary man would ever buy this couch."