#AHH have a sort of... sad but in a reflective way blamore that is trying to deflect the attention off of himself in order to not address-

[lususnatura]

“ tell me, what happened?”

in yet another downpour that gotham was experiencing, blamore found himself in the middle of it; and without an umbrella as well. not that that really mattered much, as blamore was in the type of mood that would sometimes make people stand in the rain in hopes that it might cleanse them — relieving their body and spirit of the troubles that held onto them like a vice. he just wished that he knew one single question: why? but the closest blamore had ever gotten to having that question answered was by consulting itself, and yet, it still didn't know for sure whether it had the right idea about things.

was it coming back to life the way he was now (half-monster and half-human) all part of some sick joke run by nature itself? or, had it happened because whatever higher power there may be out there deemed that he wasn't done here — that he didn't get to die just yet? blamore truly didn't know, so perhaps dwelling on it would just end up making him mad in the end. existential dread was something everyone experienced though... right? a sigh slipped through its lips as it sat on a bench in robinson park, uncovering the bandage that concealed the gash on its hand. he'd moved it only to discover it still looked as bad as when he first got it.

a groan slipped through blamore's lips as it was just about to slam its body into the bench out of frustration before it heard someone talk to it. now, looking up, the creature could see that they were someone he definitely didn't know. though they seemed to be asking about his hand all the same. blamore immediately plastered a small smile on its face before going for its go-to answer for things like this, ❝ ahh, it's just an occupational hazard, really. no need to worry about me. i already do enough of that on my own, ❞ while chuckling slightly awkwardly, it then quickly put the bandage back over its wound. blamore could only hope that he'd only gotten a glimpse at it and didn't see that his skin had been partially burned.

whoever they (loki) was, they also had an umbrella on them, he thought. so perhaps if blamore was nice to him... it could move this existential conversation it was having with itself somewhere else. preferably with air conditioning as it was starting to get cold, ❝ say, what are you doing taking a leisurely stroll through the park when its raining this hard? i answered your question, so i think its only fair that you answer mine. ❞