Warren Peace (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pyrotechnist) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
umbrellajackassery2019-04-16 02:13 pm
pyrotechnist) wrote in umbrellajackassery2019-04-16 02:13 pm
The leaves are electric. They burn on the riverbanks. - Open to anyone
Warren isn't sure if he believes in callings and shit, but he knows something told him he needed to come to this place. He's not grown up under a rock, so he's heard of the Umbrella Academy, but his mom wasn't real big on encouraging him to play with the toys and all. His lunchbox had ninja turtles on it and he'd sold it to some kid for his first pack of smokes when he was... well, let's just say much too young.
Pretty much right around the time that he'd lit his first fire, and when the scent of tobacco was better than the slightly crispy leaves and wood burning smell that sometimes lingered around him.
He's not blind to who and what they are, but despite his own ability, he's never thought of himself as one of them. They're heroes. He's a kid that causes fires, and not everyone survives that.
The last few days he's been creeping around the place, talking to literal ghosts and checking things out. It's definitely different, and he's still adjusting to the whole thing where he's seen multiple people with the same face and picking up that somethings gone pear shaped and wonky. It left him hopeful, but when he did some research, his fire still happened, Baron was still in prison, and his mom... still is just answering his texts with single syllables so whatever. He might as well be here then.
Most of the time he's curled up in a padded window seat, guitar resting against his body and toying with the strings. The more focus he has, the less likely he's been to just start random fires. So he lays there, toying with the guitar and considering what it is that drew him here. Even being one of them, he just never been the saving the world type.
Pretty much right around the time that he'd lit his first fire, and when the scent of tobacco was better than the slightly crispy leaves and wood burning smell that sometimes lingered around him.
He's not blind to who and what they are, but despite his own ability, he's never thought of himself as one of them. They're heroes. He's a kid that causes fires, and not everyone survives that.
The last few days he's been creeping around the place, talking to literal ghosts and checking things out. It's definitely different, and he's still adjusting to the whole thing where he's seen multiple people with the same face and picking up that somethings gone pear shaped and wonky. It left him hopeful, but when he did some research, his fire still happened, Baron was still in prison, and his mom... still is just answering his texts with single syllables so whatever. He might as well be here then.
Most of the time he's curled up in a padded window seat, guitar resting against his body and toying with the strings. The more focus he has, the less likely he's been to just start random fires. So he lays there, toying with the guitar and considering what it is that drew him here. Even being one of them, he just never been the saving the world type.