[ Chapter I (1): "WHEN DID I HAD GREEN EYES?!" ]
Confused, amazed, but also scared. Torrin Thorpe leaned closely, his head touching the helmet of the stationed set of knight armor in front of him, as he observes his newfound features with child-like interest. [ "Oh, wow." ]
[ "When did I had green eyes?!" ] For the life of him, he couldn't remember. And he has been living as himself for 15 years which should be telling. That, or his memory is really shit poor, more so than he already thinks.
[ "And my hair, my hair why is i-" ] He ruffled his hair, touching it, feeling it, and then realizing that no, unlike his eyes, it didn't changed at all. Still greasy, still black, still a mess and unkempt. [ "No, wait, it's still the same as before." ]
[ "But, bloody heavens, this is so freaky." ] Torrin compared and contrast the body that he now has, and the body that he remembers from his memories. He primarily relies on memory, because the body that he now occupies is same-same, but different from the one he remembers.
And when he really focused on it, when finally given the chance, he realized that his hands are slimmer and lankier— like sticks, his skin a little more white, and voice raspy like it hasn't been used that much— something that should be impossible for a chatter piece like Torrin.
And also that his features are not his own, this new one being on the sunken side and without freckles— something-something that he noticed, albeit difficult with the shine of the armor not being that much in the corridor. [ "No way, so... I... was right." ]
Flabbergasted, he paused, to admire his newfound features and also to think. Instantly all the small pieces that confused him since waking up, all of it connected to one another, like a mountain, all formulating into a single conclusion— a conclusion which was nothing but a theory seconds ago, and that- [ "I died." ] And was reincarnated.
Or perhaps the right word here is transmigrated, as reincarnation involves being born of a new baby body. While transmigration is all about occupying the body of another being, which has been living for quite some time. Thus the difference.
But no matter what it may be; either reincarnation or transmigration, Torrin now realizes it with dread, that he did die on the fire that took down the orphanage that he has been living on since young— and now he's someone else, somewhere else, and he doesn't know a single thing about anything.
[ "God, I can't believe it." ] So with a newfound smile, and excitement, Torrin went back and scanned his features using the knight helmet that is in front of him. Both hands this time, which shook the armor a little bit. [ "The supernatural truly does exist, transmigration too! What else is out there? Can there be a Heaven, Hell; how about God?!" ]
[ CACKLE ]
He felt his whole being shake, his palms most intensely which confused him enough to let go. And when he did so, something miraculous happened— not to him, but instead with the supposed non-sentient suit of iron armor, [ "What the...?" ]
Torrin gulped down the saliva stuck in his throat, and moved out of the way, as the said armor then... moved? And to the dismay of his, it then pulled out it's sword and twirled it around before stepping forward. [ "Ah-ahh!" ]
Knowing the dangers of an iron sword, and also in having been burnt minutes ago; essentially dying, then getting born again. Torrin pleaded, not wanting to die again, by the hands of an suit of armor this time.
[ "N-no wait, I-I can't die!" ] Surprisingly enough, amongst the many things that has happened to Torrin today, a sentient suit of iron armor wielding a sword is the least surprising of them all. [ "Please, wait, don't kill me. I-I don't want to die!" ] Again!
Slowly backing, and shielding his eyes, he shut it and backed away into a wall. The stone behind him feeling cold, causing his body to shiver slightly as he fears for his life. But weirdly enough, that dreadful sword strike never came. To his confusion.
[ "Whah...?" ] Slowly, Torrin opened his eyes and could see the suit of armor tilting its helmet to the side, confused. Looking more like a cat rather than the killer suit of armor that he expected. [ "I'm not... dead." ]
Feeling weak in his knees, he then sat down on the ground. His eyes staring at the sentient suit of armor with both wary and still confusion, like why am I not dead? Seeing that the Knight isn't there to kill him, he waved his right hand at it. [ "Uhh- hi?" ]
The Knight in turn waved his freehand at Torrin before then turning to the left, and robotically moving across the hall. Armors clanking, before then finally it turned around the corner out of his sight. Leaving only the panting, sweating, and confused Torrin.
Which then smiled seconds later in seeing the most unbelievable thing in the world, a moving, sentient, friendly suit of armor— which waved back at him. [ "Holy... shit." ]
He laughed under his breath, as he then tries to process what just happened. The absurdity of the situation is weird, but ultimately he was fascinated by the medieval moving suit of armor, which he then followed.
He turned from the corner, ignoring a painting of someone dressed in weird noble-like clothing, seemingly sleeping with his head down. Weird painting, almost life like, albeit not really as that would be weird.
Turning around the corner, he then stumbled into nothing, the previously moving suit of armor was now nowhere in sight. This made Torrin sad, but something else did caught his attention. [ "Hey, are you alive too?!" ]
And that would be another suit of armor, nearly identical to the last one, but instead this one is wielding a heavy-looking mace rather than the sword the prior Knight was wielding. And it's also stationed, not moving, unlike the previous. [ "Hey, hey. Do you have a soul? H-how are you even created?" ]
Contrary to what Torrin expected, the suit of armor didn't respond, didn't move, didn't do anything. Wrinkling his brows, he was about to touch the suit of armor, but paused when he heard someone calling out to him.
[ "Child, what are you doing?" ]
Torrin in hearing that, widened his eyes. Before then instinctively pulling back his hand as fast as he could, hiding it behind his back as he then tried his best not to be awkward. Something difficult in his predicament. [ "Nothing!" ]
He then turned to where the voice came from, on his left, but to his disarray. No one seems to be there. He raised his brows, as he then tried to search the surroundings for anyone. To no avail. [ "Who's there?" ] Is Torrin now hearing voices, or what?
He craned his neck, then walked a few steps backward to look at the corridor where he came from before. But no matter what, he still couldn't find the voice of an olden' lady that called out to him. [ "I'm going... crazy." ]
[ "No, you are not." ] The same voice responded to his mumbling, and this time, he could pinpoint more closely where the voice came from. And surprisingly, it came from besides him— within the walls, that, or it came from the hanged painting itself.
Torrin backed away slowly, while trying his best to crane his neck up, to stare at the oil painting of an lady dressed in weird clothing, wearing a crown made out of flowers, in a field of roses with the sun painted far away.
That, and she's also staring down at Torrin; which scared the latter slightly. If not for the candlelights illuminating her soft features, then he would have bolted out of there as fast as he could. Don't test an orphan.
But to test his hypothesis, he then pointed his index finger at the oil painting, which caused the said lady of the painting to move slightly. This scared him even more, and also made him realize that she is indeed alive. [ "W-was it you that spoke to me, lady?" ]
He already expectd it, but when the unknown lady in the painting blinked, Torrin almost fainted both from shock and excitement. [ "Of course, young one, who else but me." ] A smile instantly formed in his face when he heard her respond, that, plus in seeing her harmless made him happy.
In comparison to a sentient suit of armor, which either wields a sword or mace. A sentient painting, a drawing, is much more harmless. So he felt more at ease, and also because he could ask this one questions; but first he needs to ask permission.
[ "Excuse me, uhh- my lady, c-can I ask you a question?" ] He asked, in a voice that he still hasn't gotten used too.
In response to this, the lady in the painting smiled even more, as she leans down to better hear him, and for her voice to be better heard. [ "Silly child, you already have. And please do, the pleasure is all mine." ]
[ "Great." ] And instantly, in hearing the permission being granted, he asked the question which has been bugging him for what felt like centuries now— since he woke up in this unknown place.
And that'll be where exactly he is. Earth? America? Europe? Perhaps Neverland, or another fantasy world, who knows? She does, he doesn't. [ "Where exactly are we?" ]
[ "Dear, we are of course in-" ] He leaned in more closely, to hear what she was saying more clearly, but the next word she spoke caught Torrin off guard. [ "-the third-floor, you didn't know?" ]
[ "..." ] Damn, at least he now knows that he's in the third-floor, and that this place— this castle has other floors at the least.
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[ FUN FACT: The suits of armor/armour at Hogwarts School of Withcraft and Wizardry can be bewitched to move, or talk. The shields are immune to spells as they are non-living essentially, and in Christmas, they are known to sing Christmas carols around Hogwarts— Peeves the local poltergeist once entered one and filled in the gaps in the lyrics, messing around. They are also known to sing songs obscure words, at least half of their song are unknown, or are old words. ]
[ 10/19/2025 ]
[ 10/20/2025 ]