[There's a very confused looking person wandering the streets of Union, taking a few steps and stopping every so often to take in the sights with an absolutely dumbfounded look on their face. The person who is probably blocking traffic looks...well, a little odd. Bright orange hair runs down his back, long and shaggy-although it's tied in a high pony tail, and...the hair that hangs down moves all at once, like it's a scarf or something. ...And....do the ends of the hair occasionally twitch?
His clothing is odd, too. It resembles a male Kimono, the undershirt and Hakama a dark brown-with a pecular kind of haori on top. Two circles on the shoulders, the inside of them cut so that the undershirt shows. On the back of the haori, another circle lies between his shoulder blades, right in the center of his back. There's an intricate, cream colored design on it, looping around and coming up to the collar of the undershirt. All in all, it resembles something rather familiar...
The final thing someone would notice is the way he moves-his arms, hidden in the folds of his clothing, stay firmly locked in at his sides, not bending or moving once. His movement is rather stiff as well-and he turns his entire body to look at things, instead of just moving his head around. It's as if he doesn't realize he can move his head....
...Maybe you'll give some help to this poor soul? Because oh god, he's going to get in trouble sooner or later if no one takes pity on him.]
2 | Where am I
[Somehow, he's found his way into the Habitat tower. All the hustle and bustle confuses him, but he knows fellow pokemon when he sees them. The cold of the area barely bothers him - being a steel type, he practically doesn't feel it - far too wrapped up in seeing the myriad creatures around.
A small noise to his right catches his attention, and he moves to see what it is. A cubchoo sits on the floor, staring at him and makes another noise, waving its small arms at him as if asking him to come over and sit down.]
A baby....?
[The sound of his own voice startles him a bit, as does the accompanying mouth movements. As a Honedge, he'd never had a mouth - and since he only woke up fairly recently, anything to do with the human form he'd blundered into was startlingly new. The Cubchoo makes another noise and a few more movements, and Ichigo looks around the area carefully before coming closer. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an angry mother, after all.
It's so small...
The thought rouses a familiar feeling in his chest, one that makes him want to watch over the little pokemon...and protect it.
Quietly, the hair that hangs in a ponytail rises up, the ends of it becoming a hand reaching out to the little pokemon in order to pat it's head -
...except he can't reach. He comes up maddeningly short, the 'fingers' of the hair-hand grasping the air just above the cubchoo's head. Scowling, he gives an angry huff and tries to step closer, hoping that'll help him reach the pokemon. He just wanted to pet it, but he can't-reach-
Finally, he steps back, shaking his head. There was just no way...he was too tall. There was no way for him to reach down, unless he bent-
vaguely, he remembers about his legs. It had taken a while for him to realize they could move and slightly bend when he'd changed, and he'd had an old, fractured memory of walking down a path in a forest to let him know what they were for. Another memory pops up now, one of kneeling down in front of an odd table, picking up a heavy cover and cuddling under it.
Well. There wasn't a table with a cover on the sides, but...he had legs, right?
Carefully - with a lot of stops and starts and hesitation - he finally, finally kneels, looking worried the entire time. But with that accomplished...he's finally able to pet the little thing in front of him with his hair hand. The fur underneath is soft to the touch, and he can't stop himself from smiling.
...Of course, he's entirely unaware of the spectacle he's made of himself, seeing as he seemed scared of kneeling down. Or even that he's...you know, not really dressed for such cold temperatures. Someone could easily come up to him while he's distracted, after all.]
Ichigo Kurosaki | Bleach
[There's a very confused looking person wandering the streets of Union, taking a few steps and stopping every so often to take in the sights with an absolutely dumbfounded look on their face. The person who is probably blocking traffic looks...well, a little odd. Bright orange hair runs down his back, long and shaggy-although it's tied in a high pony tail, and...the hair that hangs down moves all at once, like it's a scarf or something. ...And....do the ends of the hair occasionally twitch?
His clothing is odd, too. It resembles a male Kimono, the undershirt and Hakama a dark brown-with a pecular kind of haori on top. Two circles on the shoulders, the inside of them cut so that the undershirt shows. On the back of the haori, another circle lies between his shoulder blades, right in the center of his back. There's an intricate, cream colored design on it, looping around and coming up to the collar of the undershirt. All in all, it resembles something rather familiar...
The final thing someone would notice is the way he moves-his arms, hidden in the folds of his clothing, stay firmly locked in at his sides, not bending or moving once. His movement is rather stiff as well-and he turns his entire body to look at things, instead of just moving his head around. It's as if he doesn't realize he can move his head....
...Maybe you'll give some help to this poor soul? Because oh god, he's going to get in trouble sooner or later if no one takes pity on him.]
2 | Where am I
[Somehow, he's found his way into the Habitat tower. All the hustle and bustle confuses him, but he knows fellow pokemon when he sees them. The cold of the area barely bothers him - being a steel type, he practically doesn't feel it - far too wrapped up in seeing the myriad creatures around.
A small noise to his right catches his attention, and he moves to see what it is. A cubchoo sits on the floor, staring at him and makes another noise, waving its small arms at him as if asking him to come over and sit down.]
A baby....?
[The sound of his own voice startles him a bit, as does the accompanying mouth movements. As a Honedge, he'd never had a mouth - and since he only woke up fairly recently, anything to do with the human form he'd blundered into was startlingly new. The Cubchoo makes another noise and a few more movements, and Ichigo looks around the area carefully before coming closer. The last thing he wanted to deal with was an angry mother, after all.
It's so small...
The thought rouses a familiar feeling in his chest, one that makes him want to watch over the little pokemon...and protect it.
Quietly, the hair that hangs in a ponytail rises up, the ends of it becoming a hand reaching out to the little pokemon in order to pat it's head -
...except he can't reach. He comes up maddeningly short, the 'fingers' of the hair-hand grasping the air just above the cubchoo's head. Scowling, he gives an angry huff and tries to step closer, hoping that'll help him reach the pokemon. He just wanted to pet it, but he can't-reach-
Finally, he steps back, shaking his head. There was just no way...he was too tall. There was no way for him to reach down, unless he bent-
vaguely, he remembers about his legs. It had taken a while for him to realize they could move and slightly bend when he'd changed, and he'd had an old, fractured memory of walking down a path in a forest to let him know what they were for. Another memory pops up now, one of kneeling down in front of an odd table, picking up a heavy cover and cuddling under it.
Well. There wasn't a table with a cover on the sides, but...he had legs, right?
Carefully - with a lot of stops and starts and hesitation - he finally, finally kneels, looking worried the entire time. But with that accomplished...he's finally able to pet the little thing in front of him with his hair hand. The fur underneath is soft to the touch, and he can't stop himself from smiling.
...Of course, he's entirely unaware of the spectacle he's made of himself, seeing as he seemed scared of kneeling down. Or even that he's...you know, not really dressed for such cold temperatures. Someone could easily come up to him while he's distracted, after all.]