12-29-2019, 02:26 AM
Hm.
He didn't know how he felt about being called a specimen.
Was this how people felt about being called subject...? Bewildered and a little bit irrationally angry at the concept of being de"human"ized? Interesting. He'd have to note that for later.
The spider grunted after she began talking cheerfully to him, specifically after he was called a 'specimen,' the mentioned strange mix of feelings floating up to obstruct his thinking, feelings which he determinedly pushed far down so that he wouldn't think about them. "Unknown," he said, his deep voice the only noise he made, as the spinning of his silk was rather silent. "Likely a mutation; was large from birth. Alternatively, am unknown species of giant spider - also possible, however, would require discovering other identical subject to self to prove." That was the most he had spoken consecutively in a while, he silently and sardonically mused to himself. He did hope it wasn't a waste; he still hadn't decided whether or not her voice and mannerisms grated on his nerves or not.
After a small time spent bandaging, mostly listening to what the drowned woman was saying to subject Snarl and occasionally asking her to move so he could access an injury, he seemed her dressings suitable - for a temporary fix-up, at least. He did so wish one of the medics had popped up, since they oft carried around herbs, from his memory; that way he wouldn't have to take the bandages off and then re-apply them after applying some antibiotics and gosh, the idea of it was so taxing already. He was glad he wasn't a medic - he'd be absolutely useless in the winter. Plus, he disliked the pure concept of that sort of obligation, having to shuffle around everywhere, provide emergency healthcare in the middle of a swamp, run check-ups occasionally - did not sound fun. He had things to research, people to talk to, time to spend dormant. The most he was willing to do was helping people like - oh, had she said her name? He would have to ask.
His mind was drawn back to the conversation by this pressing question, as well as a few comments the femme had made, which would likely be construed as flirtatious were he any other species, and creepy were he any other person. As it was, he was oblivious to the theoretical unnerving quality to her voice, mostly stuck on the idea that someone wasn't appalled by him. How intriguing indeed. "Hmm. Well, subject will have plenty of time for closer looks - do not do anything during the winter. Too cold." Lucky self even helped you, he did not say, for he understood that it would probably be very rude. Anyways, he was getting off track - he had to ask her name. Just as he was about to, though, she was talking again, leaving him to wait until another opportunity presented himself.
"Subject can get up now," he grumbled, prodding her with a pedipalp to reinforce that she should, in fact, start moving. Didn't want to keep Snarl waiting, lest she retracted her offer and leave him to help her get to camp. He did not want to figure out how that would work. "Additionally, do not worry about gator attacks - they go for throat, not legs, unlike wolves. Subject would be dead instantly." A discerning ear would likely pick up that he said this information very casually. Clearly, he had not grasped the full concept of how to talk to people, nor how to reassure them - but to him, this was reassuring. At the very least, it was a fun fact for the mystery person to think about.
And with the phrase "mystery person" in his head, he was suddenly reminded that he had a very important question to ask.
"What is subject's name?" A pause ensued, as if he was deliberating, and then: "Apologies if was already said." That should be better. Being polite was simple; according to his research, you just had to apologize for everything.
He didn't know how he felt about being called a specimen.
Was this how people felt about being called subject...? Bewildered and a little bit irrationally angry at the concept of being de"human"ized? Interesting. He'd have to note that for later.
The spider grunted after she began talking cheerfully to him, specifically after he was called a 'specimen,' the mentioned strange mix of feelings floating up to obstruct his thinking, feelings which he determinedly pushed far down so that he wouldn't think about them. "Unknown," he said, his deep voice the only noise he made, as the spinning of his silk was rather silent. "Likely a mutation; was large from birth. Alternatively, am unknown species of giant spider - also possible, however, would require discovering other identical subject to self to prove." That was the most he had spoken consecutively in a while, he silently and sardonically mused to himself. He did hope it wasn't a waste; he still hadn't decided whether or not her voice and mannerisms grated on his nerves or not.
After a small time spent bandaging, mostly listening to what the drowned woman was saying to subject Snarl and occasionally asking her to move so he could access an injury, he seemed her dressings suitable - for a temporary fix-up, at least. He did so wish one of the medics had popped up, since they oft carried around herbs, from his memory; that way he wouldn't have to take the bandages off and then re-apply them after applying some antibiotics and gosh, the idea of it was so taxing already. He was glad he wasn't a medic - he'd be absolutely useless in the winter. Plus, he disliked the pure concept of that sort of obligation, having to shuffle around everywhere, provide emergency healthcare in the middle of a swamp, run check-ups occasionally - did not sound fun. He had things to research, people to talk to, time to spend dormant. The most he was willing to do was helping people like - oh, had she said her name? He would have to ask.
His mind was drawn back to the conversation by this pressing question, as well as a few comments the femme had made, which would likely be construed as flirtatious were he any other species, and creepy were he any other person. As it was, he was oblivious to the theoretical unnerving quality to her voice, mostly stuck on the idea that someone wasn't appalled by him. How intriguing indeed. "Hmm. Well, subject will have plenty of time for closer looks - do not do anything during the winter. Too cold." Lucky self even helped you, he did not say, for he understood that it would probably be very rude. Anyways, he was getting off track - he had to ask her name. Just as he was about to, though, she was talking again, leaving him to wait until another opportunity presented himself.
"Subject can get up now," he grumbled, prodding her with a pedipalp to reinforce that she should, in fact, start moving. Didn't want to keep Snarl waiting, lest she retracted her offer and leave him to help her get to camp. He did not want to figure out how that would work. "Additionally, do not worry about gator attacks - they go for throat, not legs, unlike wolves. Subject would be dead instantly." A discerning ear would likely pick up that he said this information very casually. Clearly, he had not grasped the full concept of how to talk to people, nor how to reassure them - but to him, this was reassuring. At the very least, it was a fun fact for the mystery person to think about.
And with the phrase "mystery person" in his head, he was suddenly reminded that he had a very important question to ask.
"What is subject's name?" A pause ensued, as if he was deliberating, and then: "Apologies if was already said." That should be better. Being polite was simple; according to his research, you just had to apologize for everything.
tags - "speech"