Kail sat on his rocket shaped bed (courtesy of his father, a childhood obsession with space, and a severe dislike of change), kicking his bare heels against the painted exterior, and staring almost viciously at an innocuous cardboard box in the middle of his carpet, which was patterned with stars. Accurate stars, he might add. Inaccurate but artistic representations would have annoyed him sufficiently to stop him sleeping, or sleep badly at the very best. As Kail wasn’t a good sleeper at the best of times, having far too many thoughts and ideas chasing round his head just before he fell into slumber (On a strategically placed wing flap lay a notebook and numerous pencils). At the moment another thing adorned the wing-flap - a neatly placed book, bookmark in the middle. To many people, this would be as innocuous as the carboard box. To anybody who knew Kail, both were strange portents of impending doom! Well. No. But they were certainly unusual. Kail hated leaving things half-done, and whilst he’d picked up the book to distract himself from the box, eventually it had bugged him enough to stop reading and go back to the box. The box that was supposed to be being filled with clothes and-or other helpful things. At the moment the only thing in the box was…well, box. Or empty space if you just counted inside-inside. Mrrrrgh.
Kail leant backwards, grabbing a leopard stuffed toy from the myriad that adorned his bed. Stroking his hands comfortingly through the soft, fluffy fur, he sighed, bringing it to his chin and inhaling the scents of his house. Determination semi-cemented by this, he hopped off the bed, bare feet landing with a decisive thud. He wandered over to his wardrobe and opened the sliding door (chrome with a clockwork motif). Ignoring the clothes to the front, mainly jumpers and loose trousers, and the new clothes he had courtesy of Kyndall, he rummaged his way to the back, where numerous fancy but apparently now outdated (according to his mother) clothes were stored. ….Lots of clothes. Kail blinked as he realised quite how many there were. Woah.
He grabbed an armful of them and took them over to his bed, taking them off the hangers and ignoring the urge to twitch or stuff them all back in his cupboard. He didn’t need them, and think of all the sad people with no tufty-soft leopards to make them feel better…With that thought, Kail began folding and packing the clothes. He’d only got through about half of the armful when the box was full, and the armful had hardly made a dent in the clothes. He didn’t have any more boxes though. He’d get some later. Grabbing the Duct-Tape (he had quite a few rolls of that in his room, they were useful), he taped up the box incredibly securely.
There.
Now he could finish reading his book – that had to be finished before he finished the clothes.
His feet were still kicking against the bed though. Well. The campaign never said he had to be HAPPY with donating the clothes.
Kail leant backwards, grabbing a leopard stuffed toy from the myriad that adorned his bed. Stroking his hands comfortingly through the soft, fluffy fur, he sighed, bringing it to his chin and inhaling the scents of his house. Determination semi-cemented by this, he hopped off the bed, bare feet landing with a decisive thud. He wandered over to his wardrobe and opened the sliding door (chrome with a clockwork motif). Ignoring the clothes to the front, mainly jumpers and loose trousers, and the new clothes he had courtesy of Kyndall, he rummaged his way to the back, where numerous fancy but apparently now outdated (according to his mother) clothes were stored. ….Lots of clothes. Kail blinked as he realised quite how many there were. Woah.
He grabbed an armful of them and took them over to his bed, taking them off the hangers and ignoring the urge to twitch or stuff them all back in his cupboard. He didn’t need them, and think of all the sad people with no tufty-soft leopards to make them feel better…With that thought, Kail began folding and packing the clothes. He’d only got through about half of the armful when the box was full, and the armful had hardly made a dent in the clothes. He didn’t have any more boxes though. He’d get some later. Grabbing the Duct-Tape (he had quite a few rolls of that in his room, they were useful), he taped up the box incredibly securely.
There.
Now he could finish reading his book – that had to be finished before he finished the clothes.
His feet were still kicking against the bed though. Well. The campaign never said he had to be HAPPY with donating the clothes.
