[ It is a bliss David has never felt before. So fucking comforting that he can breathe lovely for once — free of stress and tear upon his body. He dreams, dreams so vivid that it feels real and he isn't sure how to respond to the honey sweet, 'I'm sorry' that encompasses his body. He startles awake, feels arms that instinctively push and tear at the ground above him. It's strange and weird, otherworldly because he tore his arms away and was only a torso, yeah? But he's clawing at the dirt above him like it never happened, sees the light blinding just a few inches away from the surface and feels strange.

David feels like he's born anew just as all thought leaves him, the pain in his forehead distant. When he breaks surface, he's a hulking mass of a man. Lines litter his body, on the cheeks of his face down to his calves, strategically separating mass. Speckles of dirt decorate his skin, his hair, as he emptily stares at hands sprouting out of the ground — people who are trying to escape as he did. It doesn't matter if the dirt and vines kept him captive, it's without even thinking that he pulls you (or someone, if you're a spectator) out of the rubble, still naked as the day he was born. ]

[ He tries calling. Once, twice. To Lucy. Falco, anyone. David calls and calls until he resigns himself to the silence, to the emptiness that greets him when no one answers. He knows what it must mean, but he doesn't accept it just yet.

Sadly, while David knows that that means, he doesn't know what it means to be.. Subtle. To blend in. He is a giant, stupidly tall and also stupidly muscular, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants for better lack of nothing to do with them. He couldn't go around naked forever, so he's clad pants and boots, wearing a jacket but no shirt, feeling and looking very much like a fish out of water because everything is too big, or too small. Everything is too dark, too black, not his style.

He stands the furthest away from the crowd, eyes entirely elsewhere as people talk and socialize, an activity which he is pointedly not participating in. In fact, any food or drink offered to him he doesn't take — every staff member that comes by trying to pass him a glass of champagne, he refuses. Gives a terse shake of his head to before a tight lipped smile. The same can't be said for what he gives you, after he ends up taking a peek at one of your memories in the reflecting pool. David has the decency to look sheepish, ]

My bad. Didn't mean to look.

[ Attending the forum in Springstar yields the same results — he stands, he watches, tries to call a couple more times. Then, he leaves. He only eats just enough to function like he always does, to survive, before he effectively disappears. David needs to learn how to live in a brand new society, with tech lesser than what he's known all his life, and keep his grieving to a minimum. All of this is painstakingly difficult, because when he's on his 'break' (a man needs his guns, and one of the better gunsmiths has taken him under his wing) in a local alleyway, it hits him.

He sinks down to the ground and wraps his arms around his legs, tucks his head in like a child. There's just enough light to bounce off his form, to show the shudder of an exhale he takes as he thinks and thinks. If you're a passing Exalt, you'll be assaulted with the emotional aftermath of a year's worth of repressed trauma. And, even fresher swirling in the mix, brand new turmoil from the past week.

It is sharp, and stinging, and all encompassing, but what's worse is the worry that intermingles when he sees his hand begin to shake. He pulls away from himself to examine them. Grits his teeth and breathes harshly through his nose, heart racing quicker and quicker. ]

Gotta be kidding me.. C'mon.

[ Springstar is David's chosen area to live, having made a name for himself as a primo errand boy within the Empório District. No one can say for sure whether it's his puppy dog eyes or his endearing attitude to just work his bones off, but he's in high demand for a lot of the shops and stalls selling out of the marketplace.

Eyes follow him on another delivery across town, some oohing and aahing as David lifts crates up like they weigh nothing. Two are balanced on each arm, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. His hands, the gun grey metal they are, are palm flat against the sides. In the middle of this trip, however, he doesn't notice bumping into you (being huge™ and having packages covering his view tend to do that), so something falls out of his pocket and onto the ground, as a result — a copper, hexagonal coin. On one side is a smiling face and the words “remember to live”. On the other is a skull and the words “remember you will die”.

Optionally, maybe David in his haste to take on as many jobs as possible delivers the wrong package to you! Or you're working alongside him and, for once, he needs you to carry one of the boxes he's leisurely babysitting by his hip. ]

Hold this for a sec?

[ He asks, and once you agree he passes it off. What David fails to mention is that the package is actually.. Super Heavy™. ]

[ or feel free to hit me up with anything!! pm or hmu at snottie if you wanna hash anything in specific out ]