02-21-2020, 03:19 PM
Perhaps he should grow used to the feeling of being watched.
Having an audience, he meant - because he was used to the paranoid little itch on the base of his neck, the tingle that told him to look behind him in case there was danger around, but there being people around, just... watching him? Not so normal. Where he was from - not his first home, but the place he was turned into the person he was today - people minded their own business. All this attention reminded him of white walls and metal instruments and false mirrors, of being watched and documented, and that unsettled him, ever so slightly. It was a feeling he learned to shake off, though, over time - much like the tingle at the base of his neck, it might never go away, but he could usually ignore it.
The dragon looked like a bit of a threat. He was tall, and the teeth he could see when his mouth opened look sharp enough to rend flesh; no doubt he had sharp claws or talons hidden somewhere. Luckily, though, he seemed harmless. Mostly curious. Sure didn't understand the concept of throwing things. He gave a grin, false in its sweetness, but still a well enough acted facade it should be believable, except to the extremely close of eyes. "Oh, I'm just practicing - gotta keep my mind in shape, and I was always keen on throwing knives," he said, giving a mild shrug as he readied the knife again and threw. A few millimeters off the center - close enough, in his opinion. He marched again, tugged it out, marched back, and looked Ska'arq in the eyes. "And don't be mistaken, fella - anything's a weapon, and anything can be ranged if you throw it right." His grin might seem cocky, now, given what he was saying, and the upbeat attitude he held while saying it, the warning in his words - the implication that you should always be wary - hidden behind his cheerful mask. He glanced at the dragon's body once again, then back at his face, asking, "Haven't seen you around; what's your name?"
The next was a kid. That made two that he'd interacted with beyond his joining - hopefully this one didn't speak Spanish too, otherwise he'd be smitten again. Another curious one, though far more nervous - his previous interrogator seemed more... clinical seemed accurate. Not quite like a scientist, but close enough to put him just a bit on edge. This one was nervous, though, in a way that suggested he didn't have enough experience with the world to hide that sort of weakness up. Perhaps that sort of ignorance was to be admired, though. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to his far more simple youth, before... everything. The kid was asking questions, though, which was something he was always obliged to respond to. "Indeed I was, chico - it's a skill that's saved my life many times, and I reckon it's best to practice those kinds of things, otherwise ya might find yourself in a sticky situation you aren't prepared for." The underlying sentiment of caution at all costs was there again, running through his words, a subliminal message. It was unintentional, even if he did measure each and every word and action he took, making sure nothing he didn't want out there got out there. He paused for a moment, pondering the second set of questions - the knife, which he was holding in the air, drooped a bit, as if he had loosened is grip on it some. "Well, it's accurate to about three meters away from me, though hard winds can mess it up; I can throw it farther if I control the whole thing telekinetically, but I'm partial to throwing it like a human does. Uses less energy, and it's usually faster. Hits harder, too."
Having an audience, he meant - because he was used to the paranoid little itch on the base of his neck, the tingle that told him to look behind him in case there was danger around, but there being people around, just... watching him? Not so normal. Where he was from - not his first home, but the place he was turned into the person he was today - people minded their own business. All this attention reminded him of white walls and metal instruments and false mirrors, of being watched and documented, and that unsettled him, ever so slightly. It was a feeling he learned to shake off, though, over time - much like the tingle at the base of his neck, it might never go away, but he could usually ignore it.
The dragon looked like a bit of a threat. He was tall, and the teeth he could see when his mouth opened look sharp enough to rend flesh; no doubt he had sharp claws or talons hidden somewhere. Luckily, though, he seemed harmless. Mostly curious. Sure didn't understand the concept of throwing things. He gave a grin, false in its sweetness, but still a well enough acted facade it should be believable, except to the extremely close of eyes. "Oh, I'm just practicing - gotta keep my mind in shape, and I was always keen on throwing knives," he said, giving a mild shrug as he readied the knife again and threw. A few millimeters off the center - close enough, in his opinion. He marched again, tugged it out, marched back, and looked Ska'arq in the eyes. "And don't be mistaken, fella - anything's a weapon, and anything can be ranged if you throw it right." His grin might seem cocky, now, given what he was saying, and the upbeat attitude he held while saying it, the warning in his words - the implication that you should always be wary - hidden behind his cheerful mask. He glanced at the dragon's body once again, then back at his face, asking, "Haven't seen you around; what's your name?"
The next was a kid. That made two that he'd interacted with beyond his joining - hopefully this one didn't speak Spanish too, otherwise he'd be smitten again. Another curious one, though far more nervous - his previous interrogator seemed more... clinical seemed accurate. Not quite like a scientist, but close enough to put him just a bit on edge. This one was nervous, though, in a way that suggested he didn't have enough experience with the world to hide that sort of weakness up. Perhaps that sort of ignorance was to be admired, though. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to his far more simple youth, before... everything. The kid was asking questions, though, which was something he was always obliged to respond to. "Indeed I was, chico - it's a skill that's saved my life many times, and I reckon it's best to practice those kinds of things, otherwise ya might find yourself in a sticky situation you aren't prepared for." The underlying sentiment of caution at all costs was there again, running through his words, a subliminal message. It was unintentional, even if he did measure each and every word and action he took, making sure nothing he didn't want out there got out there. He paused for a moment, pondering the second set of questions - the knife, which he was holding in the air, drooped a bit, as if he had loosened is grip on it some. "Well, it's accurate to about three meters away from me, though hard winds can mess it up; I can throw it farther if I control the whole thing telekinetically, but I'm partial to throwing it like a human does. Uses less energy, and it's usually faster. Hits harder, too."
tags - "speech"