Cerys["Human" Form]
@Moofius Ah—near instantly, even with his often less-than-ideal social skills, Cerys could tell he’d reacted rudely. It was just—it wasn’t something he was used to hearing, though given it was clearly a medical condition of some kind (he supposed?) he ought to have taken it in stride. He was a doctor, after all. He’d seen all manner of conditions in all manner of people. But... that
did explain why she kept her eyes covered with that cloth, for more reasons than just to protect them from a light she couldn’t see.
He felt bad. He really did, but he wasn’t sure he should say anything more about it, instead taking her likely purely-polite reply as an end to that topic. Yet even so he stewed softly in it... and tried his best to relate to her with his own impaired sight.
Pity, huh...?
“I’m not fond of pity, either. I suppose some part of me wants understanding, you know... not—not really for my lost eyesight. For... o-other things, though,” he stammered slightly, uncomfortable. The vampirism, and the... well, he’d... he’d been ‘alive’ long enough now that it wasn’t so bad of a sting anymore, the
other transformation he’d underwent with the help of his mentor and her powerful magics and surgery.
“And I don’t think pity is an appropriate response for your situation, either. You are exactly who you are, and you get on well, clearly. No one is completely self sufficient, sight or no sight... though. I do wish the world were a little kinder to those born differently.”That went for all sorts of things. Evelon seemed... in many ways, more tolerant than the continents that Damon and he had hailed from. Physical differences, humans and nonhumans, none of it seemed to bother the general population here... but he still felt cagey about it. He still held his tongue about it, about all of it, and rationalized it as not being the sort of thing one told a stranger about. That mentality suited him just fine. But Neimah was pleasant, and offering him much about herself. This... was how socialization worked, wasn’t it...?
Not that he’d really know. But he did smile, and even chuckle warmly at her comment—not being able to imagine sight.
“I don’t suppose it would be just as strange in some way for you to suddenly grow an eyeball? I feel like that would be traumatic. And weird, indeed. As you are, though, not weird at all.” It was friendly, and genuine, despite the slight nervousness in his chest. He liked this... socializing. But he felt he wasn’t any good at it at all. Damon wasn’t any better, but at least his failure seemed effortless and uncaring, whereas Cerys tried too much and ended up with a metaphorical foot in his mouth half the time.
He’d not much to say about community. The two of them... they’d had companions. Living in one spot for some five years or so, a mere blip of time, neighbors tended to become friendly. Yet they always ended up moving on, eventually... shallow-rooted things, too long-lived for most to relate to, or understand. But being trusted... and the good, and frankly
bad feelings that came with it, he knew good and plenty about that. But he kept his well-meaning hesitancy to himself.
Well, it feels good if you succeed. And sometimes you don’t. He merely made a sound of soft agreement, nodding, and hoping Neimah would never have to encounter a situation like that.
She would, though. It would be difficult to find a doctor who never, ever failed.
Ah, his hat. The distraction was welcome to steer him from the perhaps unwanted advice that was brewing on his tongue, and he clapped it down on his head with a wince. The sun was bright and warm on the ground, no longer interrupted by trees here. He needed to be careful... and silence would help him focus. Yet... he was curious. To a fault, even. Deeply so... and...
...and if Neimah indeed was something other than human... maybe Cerys could confide in her, and have an extra set of... ...well. Not eyes, but... an extra person nearby to, if not help him avoid the sun, at least know the risks of what was going on. Somehow, that made him feel better.
Her answer did bristle him ever so slightly, not so much hostility but a small flash of panic. He jerked his head over his shoulder, then back forward, blinking one eye owlishly large as he considered it. But indeed... no one was around them, not in their immediate vicinity. He murmured affirmation and nodded, clearing his throat and pausing at the second half of Neimah’s question.
“For myself... I wouldn’t assume such a thing. Where... where I came from, as a younger person, well... that wasn’t the case. As a result it’s...” Careful. Careful, now... though... maybe he didn’t need to be.
“...it’s hard to open up, I suppose. Hard to trust that in some places, it’s different.”It rapidly became clear that he’d been correct in his quiet assumption. Not only that... he was receiving information about this land in droves, in only a few sentences.
Seraphim... that sounded like the kind of thing that would burn Cerys to ashes if it knew of the fangs inside his mouth. The atmosphere between Cerys and his temporary traveling companion had shifted. It was sobered, moreso now, and he stood to attention and listened, squinting against the breeze. Chaos...
devils...Something in Cerys’ face softened near immediately, though it flashed with anxiety again, a small distressed sound escaping him, as she labeled him... correctly, near immediately. It was just—Damon and he... they... they liked to pretend, sometimes, that Cerys was very much alive.
Your heart is racing, love—what’s got you all flustered? Such tender little affirming nothings, though no heart beat in his chest. It was easy to forget when Damon treated him so humanly, so—
“Ghk!—” Cerys’ thoughts were cut by the sudden light smack directly to the bone of his ankle—anywhere else wouldn’t have hurt, really, and he bit back the curse that almost leapt out of him, wondering... wondering, then, how on earth she...
knew.Then again... it was
humans that usually lacked the ability to do so. So if she was, as she said, something called a ‘Chaos’... then perhaps her senses for that kind of thing were heightened.
“...what gave it away?” he asked quietly, hesitant and whispered as he took another moment to glance back down the path, then up the path. A good bit of space on all sides of them. Safety... relative safety.
“...you’re right. I’m no ghost, though I suppose I’m about as reclusive as one sometimes. Ahh... I’m...” He sniffed. Cleared his throat, as though having to prepare to speak a language foreign to him, needing to piece it together in his head beforehand.
“I’ve... been a. A vampire, for some long time now. Ah... I’m. Still getting used to it, even so. Hah... a hundred some-odd years, and still... um,” Cerys’ voice shrank the longer he spoke, until it was little more than breath from his lips. He shook his head to clear it, feeling a wash of nerves chill him.
“I-it’s... I don’t... I. I don’t... drink... human blood. O-or—or Chaos. Or... well, anyone’s now except—” He swallowed, his face suddenly a dusty shade of ashen red, as much as a thing like him could blush. Damon
wasn’t human, not at all, but he was human
enough—half—for it to be just a bit more sustaining for him than the wild animals he’d fed from and patched back up for his whole life. There was a terror in his spine, rigidity unbreaking, as he stared at Neimah with his one eye and watched for a reaction. He could... always turn back, if things went sour. If he found himself the subject of her ire or distrust, he could easily disappear. Easily.
Aesop[Lucain Form]
@Wyvern | @Austen Hat properly sat atop his doggy head now, Aesop turned his attentions half to his newfound acquaintance and half to that strange presence in the weeds some ways off down the hill. His ear flicked, and Aesop’s eyes flickered with a smile, white teeth showing in what was certainly not a sign of canine friendliness, but rather a human un-used to wearing a canine skin.
“That’s kind of you, Asmodai! I’m always happy to have a traveling partner. Or... er... someone who doesn’t mind the odd tag-along-er,” he added, sheepish, as he peered over in the direction of one such ‘Pandora.’ Interesting name, that one...
Aesop’s eyes flickered a little wider as he spotted the flames coming off of her as she seemed to grow excited in talking to a human. A small bristle ran up his spine, tails flicking and slapping on the ground, but he bit it back with a small, tittering chuckle.
“Aha... well, fire has a way of spreading quickly, hm? Bright personalities, too,” he spoke with an edge of discomfort, but not so much that it quenched his general sense of ease. His tone was genuine, at least, as he turned back to the other Lucain.
Ah. So Asmodai had noticed something, too. Aesop’s eyes flicked to the brush, his ears angling in that direction, then looked back to the other canine with a small dip of his snout and a sniff.
“So you sense something’s off as well?” he murmured, voice lower and whispered as he stood, shaking a back paw out that had gotten a bit twisted in his fall.
“Do you suppose we should look into it? It’d be a pity if something wanted to interrupt this pleasant outing. For the others’ sake. What do you say?”If this presence, this intent, had anything to do with the mystical object that Aesop’s internal compass was swinging wildly towards... then he’d do well to see it, and sniff it out. Literally, this time. And it always helped to have backup.