((Hope you don't mind! Also, introductory Linden post is long... just trying to figure him out...
))
Linden had been in a predicament. This was probably the most severe understatement of the day for someone who was brought into the world via rupture through their mother’s guts. But so it was.
After he had skittered away from his birth place, terrified and nearly paralyzed with grief, escaping what had obviously been the Diamond Court (really, did they have to etch the Suit insignia on
everything?) he had stumbled into the land of the living. Or as the case had been, the land of where-the-hell-was-everyone?
Several missteps, hours of wandering lost and a stumble onto an engraving of a map of the immediate area later, and Linden was pacing back and forth in front of a stable.
He inherently knew that relieving someone of their goods was wrong, but having weighed it against having to explain to someone how he came to be in the Courtyard, theft seemed like the optimal choice. What kept him retracing his steps, however, was the thought of leaving his siblings behind. Linden had tried, with a nose that seemed undecided on whether it was more donkey or wolf, to follow the scent of his littermates. Unfortunately, there had been too many other odors to cover up their trail: blood, anger, anguish, fear and that impenetrable fog of autumn spices and impending doom. They had been too much for his hours-old schnoz, and he decided to leave before everything returned to normal. Logic told him that he would be unable to care for his siblings in his current position, but his heart told him only assholes abandoned their own.
In the end, he had clung for dear life to the back of an equine Ace (he had yet to determine his precise thoughts on the matter of Aces) and galloped for days to what promised to be his best hope for survival: Capital City. (Or so his rudimentary, second-hand knowledge at lead him to believe, anyway.)
Linden spent many days on the street, scavenging meals from restaurant rubbish bins and sleeping beneath porches (when he could find an unoccupied one – he wasn’t the only vagabond out there). Eventually, he discovered the local library, which was a treasure trove of knowledge (and a sad one at that, so he was informed by the Esterberry clerk at the front desk) and had easy access to water (they had public restrooms!) so he could clean up a bit.
A week or so later, the wolf-donkey was determined to seek employment. He couldn’t keep living on the streets or off unwanted garbage, plus he would have to have a real home if he wanted to help his siblings. He soon sought the Esterberry clerk’s assistance.
She was a kind soul, noticing his unkempt appearance and the way he often rubbed at his belly, and so was inclined to help him. She has asked what sort of work he was looking for (he had never had a real job), and where did he live (he’d lost his home), in the War? (an emphatic “yes”, though he’d had no idea what she on about - he would have to dig up a newspaper later), and could he ask his parents for help (his parents were dead, and he had no other relatives to speak of). The woman could barely suppress her emotions and set him up with an interview with a construction company, who by all rights was doing well considering all the damage that had erupted from that bizarre Corvie experiment-gone-wrong.
So it was that Linden found himself
gainfully employed, never having lifted a hammer in his short life, and living in his boss’s shed (everyone was remarkably sympathetic to his plight...) until he’d earned enough to find a place to rent. The company was ecstatic to have him, exceedingly pleased that the strange mix had fingers (they’d learn him some electrical work with those dexterous digits!), and put him to work straight away.
He was on a lunch break (food tasted so much better when it wasn’t found at the bottom of a trash can), behooved hindlegs dangling casually off the side of a roof, when his twin tails accidentally brushed against a carpenter’s square. The metal tool slid off the angled roof, narrowly missing a colorful bird-mix passing by, and landed with a
CLANG! CLANG clang upon the cobbled streets.
Grabbing hold of the edge of the roof, Linden leaned over as far as he dared and offered a sheepish grin.
Um, sorry about that, sir.
))