into the light [...] open, poetry

Malphas- being an orphan former social-recluse- had no idea how to read, or write. He had grown up prioritizing his own survival, not enjoying himself, and thus he never learned. He had been pitifully alone for most of his life, but he didn't want sympathy. He had chosen that life for himself.

Now though, he was thrust into the public eye and he decided to roll with the punches, despite this nagging feeling in his chest that everything he was doing was wrong, that he was wrong, that everybody hated him. He pushed away his self-loathing thoughts as he saw Iota and the god-forsaken octupus girl- poor thing- and made his way over.

"Po-eh... what? Why are you defiling that leaf? What are you doing?" He had never even heard of writing, or poetry. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What...?"