12-04-2019, 02:50 PM
The spider shifted backwards, towards the tree he designated his safety anchor, a twitch of movement that was subtle in how precise it was, as if he had spent a few minutes measuring exactly how much effort he would need to put into moving himself exactly that much distance.
Eyes flicking from person to person, he let himself register the odd oxymoronic occurrence he found himself enwrapped in. He was desperately outnumbered, and yet he felt like he held the upper hand - paw? pedipalp? - here. Half those who approached him were smaller and very obviously filled with fear, and the other two still seemed to be in unease at his presence, with the only unaffected one being Snarl. On top of this, despite the familiar situation, they were all so... polite (again, excepting Snarl, but even she wasn't setting him on fire). He had, frankly, never been so well spoken to, and he was, frankly, slightly disturbed. It felt like he was the fly wandering into the spider's trap, rather than the other way around, and he did not enjoy the feeling.
Fingers - claws? - crossed this wasn't a cult.
"Greetings," he said to Crowley, trying to figure out if there was an appropriate response to being told "no problem." "Welcome to clan is appreciated." He settled on, literally and metaphorically, letting his legs relax and sink just a little bit into the mud.
Scared subject number 1 - Moth - hid behind the large lion, indicating some sort of familiarity between the two that was interesting. Perhaps data he could use later? He filed it away, quietly, moving towards Moth to examine her further - not close enough to invade any normal person's personal space, but still close enough to view anything he might need to view. "How are medical duties in Tanglewood?" he asked, half absentmindedly, not waiting for an answer to move over to the next person.
He was the second scared subject, almost amusingly so - from how he carried himself, Abathur could tell he was either important or had a healthy dose of self respect, so the whinging 'subjects' that left his mouth was very entertaining to him. A cruel irony that he couldn't help but be delighted by. He did not laugh, however, instead moving closer, closer even than he moved towards Moth, gazing into Miller's eyes with his eight. "Appreciate greeting. What are clan ranks like?" His aura of authority gave Abathur the impression he would be a veritable fount of information in those regards.
Last to speak was Aurum again. The spider shifted his weight towards the lion, crawling in a way unique to spiders, in a way that left a harsh juxtaposition in one's mind of his walking versus his talking. One so fluid and natural, the other choppy and robotic, both measured and careful in two very different ways. "Indeed," he said, glancing with one eye back to Snarl. Very rude indeed. He quickly skipped all the talk of the angel's position in the clan (though he did file away the name Leroy and the title captain of the guard for later) and jumped straight to his own questions. "Why does subject have wings? Present at birth, or acquired mutation? Is subject distinct species from most terrestrial lions?" With every question he carefully moved forwards, stretching out with one leg and pushing with an opposite leg, repeating the motion until he was standing face-to-face with the 'lion.'
It seemed all thoughts of policy slipped his mind the moment he was accepted.
Eyes flicking from person to person, he let himself register the odd oxymoronic occurrence he found himself enwrapped in. He was desperately outnumbered, and yet he felt like he held the upper hand - paw? pedipalp? - here. Half those who approached him were smaller and very obviously filled with fear, and the other two still seemed to be in unease at his presence, with the only unaffected one being Snarl. On top of this, despite the familiar situation, they were all so... polite (again, excepting Snarl, but even she wasn't setting him on fire). He had, frankly, never been so well spoken to, and he was, frankly, slightly disturbed. It felt like he was the fly wandering into the spider's trap, rather than the other way around, and he did not enjoy the feeling.
Fingers - claws? - crossed this wasn't a cult.
"Greetings," he said to Crowley, trying to figure out if there was an appropriate response to being told "no problem." "Welcome to clan is appreciated." He settled on, literally and metaphorically, letting his legs relax and sink just a little bit into the mud.
Scared subject number 1 - Moth - hid behind the large lion, indicating some sort of familiarity between the two that was interesting. Perhaps data he could use later? He filed it away, quietly, moving towards Moth to examine her further - not close enough to invade any normal person's personal space, but still close enough to view anything he might need to view. "How are medical duties in Tanglewood?" he asked, half absentmindedly, not waiting for an answer to move over to the next person.
He was the second scared subject, almost amusingly so - from how he carried himself, Abathur could tell he was either important or had a healthy dose of self respect, so the whinging 'subjects' that left his mouth was very entertaining to him. A cruel irony that he couldn't help but be delighted by. He did not laugh, however, instead moving closer, closer even than he moved towards Moth, gazing into Miller's eyes with his eight. "Appreciate greeting. What are clan ranks like?" His aura of authority gave Abathur the impression he would be a veritable fount of information in those regards.
Last to speak was Aurum again. The spider shifted his weight towards the lion, crawling in a way unique to spiders, in a way that left a harsh juxtaposition in one's mind of his walking versus his talking. One so fluid and natural, the other choppy and robotic, both measured and careful in two very different ways. "Indeed," he said, glancing with one eye back to Snarl. Very rude indeed. He quickly skipped all the talk of the angel's position in the clan (though he did file away the name Leroy and the title captain of the guard for later) and jumped straight to his own questions. "Why does subject have wings? Present at birth, or acquired mutation? Is subject distinct species from most terrestrial lions?" With every question he carefully moved forwards, stretching out with one leg and pushing with an opposite leg, repeating the motion until he was standing face-to-face with the 'lion.'
It seemed all thoughts of policy slipped his mind the moment he was accepted.
tags - "speech"