twenty-eight toys

[endthem.livejournal.com]

[the strange red-haired man had let the kid tag along from the town, leading him back to his mansion and inviting him inside... But that had been some time ago. The kid tried to be patient, left sitting in a chair and waiting for the man to reappear from wherever he had disappeared to... but his attention span is much shorter than his patience, especially in a place this interesting. He fidgets with the uncomfortable formal clothes he's stuck in, and prods at the raw skin on his wrists for a while. Finally he sets out the journal and lets it babble at him.

He's picking the page apart, tearing off little tiny pieces one at a time]

[stated blandly] ...Talking books aren't real.

[finally, after not even the journal can keep his attention any longer, he throws caution to the wind and sets off to explore, leaving his journal behind.]

[ooc: attention anyone who might be in the mansion! There is a creepy teenager skulking through the halls...]