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For Osozo
Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#1
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

While Sam's life was currently not going too badly, he was sure Caido would throw something at him eventually. Longnight was around the corner, which always brought a fresh selection of issues with it (though this time he would be careful not to thrust his hand into nets that contained monsters), the Voice would soon be enacting her plan for Torchline and he just felt like something was coming on the horizon.

He'd come to the ruins as a part of his night time walks, when he liked to reflect and prepare himself for whatever might be coming, though he had never really been successful with that.

Sitting on a pillar that had long ago fallen sideways he looked up to the moon, hands in his lap; he was in an odd place at the moment. A phase that felt transitional, in-between. Not a good time and not a bad one either, one where he was waiting for everything: for Loren, for The Voices plan, for more portals, for his sisters trust...it made him feel unsettled. Giving out a heavy sigh, he pushed a hand through his hair then began to amuse himself by pushing rocks about on the pillar and reversing time on them with his fingers, reverting them back to their old positions.



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#2
Osozo
They are so lucky, it is nearly unbelievable. A path out of the tunnels is known to them, injected along with so much other information, and already they have stumbled upon a person. But not just any person, oh no. A bright one, a brother, a subject of interest. Osozo is not made to be quiet, but they are made to be clever, to observe before interacting, and that is a skill they employ here, watching the rocks be shuffled, then returned back to their previous position. How curious.

Striding forward with purpose, Osozo says nothing, makes nearly no sound until they are directly before Sam, their hair a bright white shock, eyes a toxic green. "Hello." The greeting is crooned out, Osozo leaning in as it's said, looking over Sam up close, appraising him as if he were a piece of meat, laid out by a butcher.

h?????i????g?????h??? ????f????u?????n?????c???t??????i???????o???n?????i?????n??????g???? ????f??????l?????e?????s????h????

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#3
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

Sam was too lost in his task and thoughts to notice that he was being watched and besides, the ruins often held that atmosphere anyway; too many dark doorways and wide pillars that could easily hide prying eyes away from the unobservant. It wasn't until there was a person directly before him that he jumped and looked up with a quiet 'oh', looking upon a stranger.

Not just a stranger: there was something distinctly strange about this person. With the bright eyes and hair, he immediately suspected this was not just the average stranger. "Ah..um..hello. Can I.." Sam looked around him, trying to see if there was some kind of context clue for why he had been approached; nothing he could immediately find. "..Help you somehow?"



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#4
Osozo
The stare was met with a cocked head, bright eyes looking Sam over as he spoke, noting the confusion. "I don't know. Perhaps you could?" Osozo leans back then, stroking their chin as they consider Sam. "You are... of the Voice, right?" It's a mostly rhetorical question, judging by the way Osozo claps their hands together, immediately barrelling on.

"I am so glad I met you first! Do you have a name?" There is no stillness, no single moment for Sam to look over the demi god and get the full picture, even without taking the subtly shifting appearance into account, they move and sway.

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#5
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

Osozo was certainly strange, Sam had gotten that much already; he leaned away as they leaned closer, eyes searching Osozo's face as they asked their question. "Uhm...yes? I-I'm Ascended, if that's what you mean. Are you...?" He hadn't met this person yet, but there had been a lot of new additions to their family lately.

"First...? Um, my name is Samuel." Osozo was an Outlander, then? Was he the first person they'd met so far in Caido because they'd just come from a new world? Assuming that was the case Sam tried to relax and give them a comforting smile.



Age: 27 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Nomadic
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#6
Osozo
"Ascended? That's the term you prefer?" It was so simple, so boring, but if it was what the Voices other children used, it was what Osozo would use as well. "I am... not ascended, but I am of the Voice. I never rose above an earlier form." There's a smile on their face like this should all be obvious, though it's not necessarily mean, simple bemused by it all.

The name is accepted with a nod, Osozo literally rolling it around in their mouth before repeating it. "Ssssamuel." It's not overly fun to say, doesn't buzz in the same way as their own name, but it's not bad either. "Did you choose it yourself? Or was it given to you?" The questions come faster than anything, the demigod leaning in almost imperceptibly with every word. "I am Osozo. I chose it" The introduction is all but an afterthought, after the onslaught of what came before.

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
MIA - Regular - Ragdoll Cat
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#7
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

"Um...I mean..I didn't make it up. I think The Voice did." Sam wasn't sure actually, but it would make sense if she had and he was pretty sure he'd heard her use it too. When Osozo went on to explain what they were he tilted his head, confused as to what they meant, then it began to slowly dawn on him. He had wondered if such a thing was possible before, but had always assumed it not to be... "You mean the Voice made you from nothing?! That's...that...why didn't she tell us she could do that?"

Osozo's question about his name was weirder still and he paused before answering it, trying to work out if there was some kind of hidden meaning. "Um...no, my parents gave it to me. I didn't choose it. I don't mind it, though." Osozo apparently had chosen their name though: "The Voice didn't give you one..? Why did you choose Osozo?"



Age: 27 | Height: 5'5" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Nomadic
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#8
Osozo
"Did she? But it's so... simple." Osozo's head tilted back and forth, a slow rippled of colour spreading through their hair as they thought. "Maybe it's elegant that way. Proper, sharp, and understated. Hmm..." They seemed to almost be talking to themselves, eyes growing distant, though they snapped back to Sam's face as realization struck him, grin so wide it seemed to nearly split their face in two. "She did not tell me why or why not, but know I am the first like me. Not the last," Osozo held no illusions about what they were, prototype, experiment, whatever. There was a certain amount of pride in being the first one.

"Parents? Of course, of course. Do you not mind it because it has been attached to you so long?" A fair question, in the demi-gods mind. Even they weren't set on their name, though perhaps comfort would come in time. Or change. "She offered me a name, but I wanted to create it myself. Does it not sound good? O-sssssso-zzzzzzo" The name is stretched into a buzz, the crackle of static and the hiss of tinnitus, somehow verbalized.

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#9
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

"Things don't...have to be complicated." Sam replied, though it seemed Osozo came to that conclusion on their own quickly enough. He was beginning to feel a little easier around this new stranger, though they certainly were odd; as they confirmed they were indeed the first (but not the last) he nodded wordlessly and studied their face, thoughts unknowable even to himself. "..I see. That is...remarkable, really. You are...remarkable."

Asked why he didn't mind his own name, as if it were something he should mind, Sam frowned, pondered being offended for a moment, but dropped it: it was clear Osozo meant no harm. "It's just always been my name. I've never thought too much about it. My name is Samuel Wordsworth and I suppose it always will be." Certainly didn't seem like getting married was in his future any time soon, with his luck.

The way Osozo said their name made him laugh, something about the absurd buzzing making the whole thing seem bizarre. "I suppose it does. So..um...Osozo, have you got a job to do? Did the Voice make you...for something?"



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#10
Osozo
There is a certain amount of awe on Sam's face that only serves to spur Osozo on, hands coming out to cup his face gently, but firmly, touch more insistent than soothing. "Thank you. Thank you. I am so glad you can see that." Multicoloured eyes search the ascendeds face, the smile almost manic now, though they pulled away after a moment longer, bouncing on their heels. "You are a good first to have met."

Have you never felt the urge to change it?" This is a curiosity, already Osozo wants to play with things, to keep them malleable and interesting. "Isn't it a chore always be the same? How do you experience anything other than Samuel?" Being just one thing, for an entire life, sounded terribly boring. There' was so much to experience, to learn, and already so much of it was crippled.

The question about a job had Osozo's head tilting to the side, brows coming together like they weren't quite sure what Samuel meant. "I am meant to learn. And to spread influence. And to gather information. The first is not a glamorous place, but it is a necessary one. And I am going to wear it in." There a sharp laugh, then the demi-god is leaning in, sharp grin pointed at Sam. "Do you have a job?

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#11
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

Osozo certainly wasn't humble, which did make Sam smile to himself: The Voice had not made another emotionless being like 108 here, had she? Osozo certainly seemed to be brimming with personality, which he thought would be a good thing when it came to proving the humanity of their race to the others. Of course, there were the questions about pain, pleasure, bodily functions...but he was too polite and awkward to ask the Demi God that right away.

"Um. No, not really. My shop and books all have my signature in anyway, so if I changed my name it'd be difficult..." He mumbled, feeling embarrassed with the practical and dull answer in the face of all of Osozo's flamboyance. "Are...you going to change your name eventually?"

It seemed like Osozo was a true prototype from their description of their 'job', a task Sam did not envy them: the pressure of being a good 'first' had to be immense, or at least it would be on his shoulders. "Oh, I make books. Though...for the Voice, I help explore to make new portals. Do you know about the portals?"



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#12
Osozo
"Shop and books?" The repetition was soft, quietly interested, in a distant kind of way, but trampled over by the haste to answer the next question from Sam. "I haven't decided yet." Osozo declared boldly, hands on hips and hair flaring a sharp red for a moment. "I don't know how much I want to be known yet. Perhaps I'll never change it. Perhaps it will be new tomorrow." A shrug then, uncaring and uninvolved in the topic as suddenly as their interest was piqued.

Conversely to Sam's thoughts, the thought of being first did not weigh on Osozo at all, no sense of obligation or urge to do things perfectly. They were the first opportunity to grow from, and they intended to leave big shoes to fill. "What kind of books do you make? What goes into them?" Osozo tilted their head, fist coming up to rest gently under their chin.

"I know some about the portals. Have you been to the places beyond them? The snow, and trees, and desert?" This was perhaps the part of their knowledge that they were most interested to see firsthand, the parts that had been opened up newly.

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H

Samuel Wordsworth
Book maker/seller

Age: 34 | Height: 5' 5" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 10 - Strg: 28 - Dext: 25 - Endr: 27 - Luck: 25 - Int: 1
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#13
Samuel
I pray to blades of grass
To find forgiveness in the weeds

Osozo's uncertainty about their name seemed exhausting to Sam, but if it made the new Demi-God happy, he supposed it was harmless enough. "Well, do keep us all updated on your names." He said with a quiet laugh, imagining receiving a letter with a list of the ones cycled through on any given day.

He had not expected his bookmaking to be of any interest and had to think to formulate an answer. "Oh, a bit of everything. I don't write much original content. I remake books from the Atheneum or collate stories together into volumes. I love to work on books of stories and legends, but I've also done plenty of volumes on botany or local animals. ...What kind of book would you want to read?" Sam asked, unsure if Osozo would have any idea.

"I've been to all of those places, yes. Well, um. Not to the 'trees', not for a while: and you shouldn't go to the Greatwood either. We're not allowed to." Better to warn Osozo now than have them cause an incident wandering into the woods, he thought.



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#14
Osozo
The Demi-god purses their lips tightly, head tilted so far to the side it looks uncomfortable now, and stare sat Sam, waiting for the answer with an aggressively impatient patience. "How do you decide what to remake? Is there a list, a guideline, or do you just feel it?" It seemed like an important skill to have, the ability to just feel what you were meant to do, some kind of compass needle in your chest pointing towards where you were always meant to go. "I'd like to read books about the things I don't know yet." A simple answer to a simple question.

"The woods denizens... the ah, fey, they don't like us because of the portals, yes?" There is a moment of thought, regardless of how Sam answers, then a light scoff. "The trees seemed the least interesting. I want to know more about the desert, and the mountains." Extreme locations, at the very edges of what a mortal can withstand. Places like that are where they can thrive, where their numbers can grow.

H I G H F U N C T I O N I N G F L E S H



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