Reverse 1999 x Reader

Hiding a Suitcase and Seeking Friends.

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1929, the streets of London.
(1ST PERSON VIEW)

I closely follow Vertin and Mr. APPLe out of the suitcase, my footsteps eerily echoing off of walls I cannot see. Finally, we reach the surface, and I step out into a damp, gray street that looks even more depressing with the gray sky above. My gosh. I'm getting sad just being here. My attention is then turned on the two brats who appear to be stealing the suitcase.

"P-p-people come out from the suitcase?!" A plump boy with shaggy brown hair and buck teeth stares at us, his squeaky voice hurting my ears. "Agh, it's a weirdo's case! She knows dark magic. Run!" The boy beside him has the same rather irritating voice. "This is my suitcase. Please give it back to me." Vertin steps forward to retrieve the suitcase from the impudent boys, but...

"No! Don't touch me! Imma give it to the officer!" The plump one says. The blonde boy from before decides to join in, "Haha! Kiss my ***! You da** Basilik losers!" A soft, strained smile forms on my face. "That's really no way to talk to those older than you. And where did you learn those dirty words from?" Mr. APPLe joins in to back me up. "When a pirate meets robbers? Robbing is not a good behavior that you kids should learn."

"Indeed," I nod my head, "how have the morals here declined so much?" I can't help but tilt my head in genuine confusion. However, the boys entirely ignore our words of advice. "That apple is talking! Ew!! Throw rocks at it!" My lips press into a thin line. Yep.

Typical brats.

"Owww.." I look Mr. APPLe over for any injuries, but it just seems like he was grazed. The scent of the secreting apple juice wafts in the air, and forms a string of letters that says, "EAT HIM." He slowly floats away from me, leaving me with an embarrassed heat on my cheeks. I guess I can't hide the hunger in my eyes... "Looks like the generation we met is not quite friendly." I turn toward him. "Mhm... what should we do, Vertin?"

"If they shake the suitcase like this, Regulus will probably fall apart. Mr. APPLe, [Y/N], I need your help." I do a mock salute, "Sure thing Vertin." Mr. APPLe momentarily flashes like a disco ball, "My pleasure. This APPLe will shed some light on justice for them— well, won't violate the Declaration of the Rights of the Child." I clear my throat, stretch, and pull down my mask before stepping up to the two kids. This shouldn't be too difficult.

...

Me and Mr. APPLe do away with the kids quite quickly. Between me putting them to sleep only for them to be hit with a painful flash of light, they scurried away as soon as they couldn't take anymore. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Their vision will be wonky for a bit, but they'll be fine." I shrug my shoulders as Mr. APPLe fixes me with as blank of a look as an apple can give someone. Gosh, did I already make him hate me?

Disregarding our staring contest, Vertin retrieves the suitcase and walks off to a nearby patch of trees. "Hide it in the tree hole this time. It shouldn't be that easy to be found." After hiding the suitcase, we have a moment of calm. "The situation of the arcanists forty years ago looked much worse than ours. At least we can still talk to the human." Ignoring the weird wording of "the human", I nod in agreement.

"The subculture movement has indeed changed the social status of some arcanists. While in the 1920s, there are still many injustices..." I sigh. I'm glad I was born in a time where arcanists weren't treated as badly (aside from the incident with my parents), but that just makes me sad for all the previous generations of my family who probably had much worse to deal with than me. I hear the sound cue of Mr. APPLe casting a spell, and I crane my neck to see what he's doing.