smash_logs | Open Log: Now with 97% more molting!

Open Log: Now with 97% more molting!

Characters: Pit, anyone
What: Pit is undergoing extreme *~bodily changes~* ~~like puberty or menstruation~~ and is losing feathers like pocket change in a holy pocket.
Where: Up to you!
When: From Saturday, September 19th to Saturday, September 26.
Warnings: PINFEATHERS. 8C Self-conscious angels? Gdit. ~~Not that he isn't going through perpetual molt already.~~

Basically, this is just a log where you can bump into Pit. Anywhere, anytime, anyone. Extra emphasis on ANYONE. You can find him in his room, you can meet him on the roof, down the halls, in between classes, in the courtyard, the common room, training at the stadium... anywhere! Just write in a date, time, and location. I will even wedge in a few starting threads to make it easier on those who can't think of a place/situation to interact with him. I should also mention that the further into the week you go, the worse his molt is. But I mean it: any excuse is good! I love tagging you guys, okay? 8C

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"Yup, looks like it," he agreed. "We'll just have to get the other supplies later. They may have some in the art rooms. But if push comes to shove, we can always head downtown." Jeff placed the box on the floor next to his desk. Folding his arms, he uttered, "We'll have to look up instructions too at some point. But that can wait until after we have everything we need."

"Sounds good to me!" His emotional plunge of a few minutes past had been buried. Pit leaped up and spun around to gather more feathers. The room looked halfway purged of the white cottonlike objects... if only he would stop molting them back out! While Jeff sat at his desk, he darted around with a newborn spirit collecting the remainders.

Jeff smirked and shook his head. He could clearly hear Pit scampering around behind him. At least the angel was keeping busy. Better that than moping again. But he tried not to pay the other any mind. He hadn't been lying when he said he had homework. "Make sure to check under the beds," he suggested.

A soft plunk sound indicated that Pit had dove to his knees and was commencing a search beneath his bed. He inched forward bit by bit in almost a silly fashion by using his forearms, making tidbits of noises as he submerged. A tiny series of sneezes could be heard and a small "Scuse' me."

"Oh please, it's not that dirty under there. You sound like you're allergic to your own feathers," the blond rolled his eyes. There probably were a few dust bunnies under the beds, more likely under Pit's. Jeff made a mental note to vacuum the room once the angel was done molting.

"I'm not allergic," was his response. "It's just a bit dusty down here and I breathed all wrong." He debouched from beneath the bed and back into plain sight with a few more feathers.

"Look, Jeff! I'm almost done," he pointed out on his way to the box again, motioning to the near-featherless state of their room. Needless to say, his wings lost another one during the trip back from the short journey underneath his bed- oops.

The blond shook his head. Even while cleaning up, Pit was still making a mess. At least the room could now be considered livable. "You're as bad a long-haired dog. Good thing this is only once a year."

He was starting to understand why all of his mother's friends bought purse sized, short haired dogs. At least they didn't shed. The thought made him rather curious about the living conditions of the more canine-like students in the school.

Pit laughed at the remark and picked up the freshly shed feather. He finished up quickly after that, dabbling the room here and there on his quest for cleanliness.

When no more feathers starred the room in white specks, a sigh rose from the angel's chest. "I think I'll go get ready for practice, then."

"Alright," Jeff waved without turning around. "Depending on how long this homework takes me, I'll probably still be here by the time you return." After a pause, he added, "Have fun."

"Thanks, Jeff." A fond smile decorated his face as he looked at the back of the other boy's head before revolving around to grab his gear.

"See you when I get back!" he called at the doorway, clutching his bag and lifting one arm in leave. The door closed behind him and he departed in high spirits, feeling a little closer to his roommate and excited for another afternoon of rigorous activity- minus the tackles due to what time of year it was for the winged boy. It was good to feel so content with life.

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Open Log: Now with 97% more molting!

Re: Sept. 24th, BE-8

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