08-08-2018, 10:26 PM
Homes - a concept Abathur was certainly familiar with, a concept that filled people with nostalgic sickness as they cinematically looked away with a sad look in their eyes as they reminisced about the good times, a concept that some people strived for and others didn't even know they needed. He had a home, once - he was living here now, of course, and it was fine, Tanglewood was fine, but it just... wasn't right. It wasn't the place he loved, and he didn't think it would ever measure up. That was okay, of course - he could deal with that, he could live without needing the nice comfort that you got from knowing you were where you belonged, but surviving wouldn't stop him from missing it, from spending an hour of his time thinking of something fun that had happened back in the place he couldn't name, filling his eyes with a quite literal blue, a blue of sadness and dramatic homesickness. He wasn't immune to it, you know, even if he presented himself robotically with his movement and lack of emotive features or an emotive voice.
He was trying to get better with expressing himself, hopefully finding a way to get back emotional manipulation so he could properly emanate what he felt. It certainly did help when he was confronted with joiners, like the strange death machine before him, the one covered in scars that made him even more nostalgic for when his homeclan was considered overly violent, to say the least. Before it turned into more of a safe haven for people above the law, which he also didn't mind, because he loved change, and for his home to experience potential positive change was good at the time. At the time. Now it didn't matter. His home was gone and he lived in a radioactive swamp with a bunch of strange, strange people, and it couldn't feel more alien, even if he, as a relatively large spider, was used to the unknown.
The arachnid, smaller than a cat but only by a little bit, crept towards Cavalry, giving the other a foot or two of space between them to accommodate for potential fears."Greetings," the spider said, staring at the male with placid white eyes, eyes unknowing of potential misdeeds committed against them. "Subject's name,
business with Tanglewood?" His voice seemed to have a slight polite tone to it, despite it being both very deep and very cold, as cold as the phrase "name and business," cold enough to make one wonder if the seemingly friendly spider was some sort of machine. He was trying to sound cordial nonetheless, but...
Well, not all attempts were destined to succeed.
He was trying to get better with expressing himself, hopefully finding a way to get back emotional manipulation so he could properly emanate what he felt. It certainly did help when he was confronted with joiners, like the strange death machine before him, the one covered in scars that made him even more nostalgic for when his homeclan was considered overly violent, to say the least. Before it turned into more of a safe haven for people above the law, which he also didn't mind, because he loved change, and for his home to experience potential positive change was good at the time. At the time. Now it didn't matter. His home was gone and he lived in a radioactive swamp with a bunch of strange, strange people, and it couldn't feel more alien, even if he, as a relatively large spider, was used to the unknown.
The arachnid, smaller than a cat but only by a little bit, crept towards Cavalry, giving the other a foot or two of space between them to accommodate for potential fears."Greetings," the spider said, staring at the male with placid white eyes, eyes unknowing of potential misdeeds committed against them. "Subject's name,
business with Tanglewood?" His voice seemed to have a slight polite tone to it, despite it being both very deep and very cold, as cold as the phrase "name and business," cold enough to make one wonder if the seemingly friendly spider was some sort of machine. He was trying to sound cordial nonetheless, but...
Well, not all attempts were destined to succeed.
tags - "speech"