08-27-2020, 11:24 AM
HIGHER BEINGS, THESE WORDS ARE FOR YOU ALONE
ghostwhisper - mantis-awahondo hybrid - they/them
[div style="width: 100%; height: auto; text-align: justify; padding: 20px; font-size: 15px; color: #f2ffff;"]They are aware, marginally, that their appearance is considered an oddity among these lands. They have a thick shell where face and expressions should be, a cloak that hides things, and long legs to scuttle about at a frightening pace. Their wings glow ever so faintly, and their unsettling appearance apparently means that they're normally hard to approach. Such is not the case now, where two faces of this group arrive to greet them. They hold their bow long, shell remaining dip and claw across chest. Respect must be shown to all, after all. Normally to those that earned it, but frankly in these lands they were finding out the gesture served just as well as any greeting. No swift greeting meant a fight, and Ghostwhisper had raised claws and gushed orange life out far too many times for their own conscious.
No caves. That seemed like an easy enough request. They pull the paper back towards them, tapping their utensil of writing against their shell in thought. Ghostwhisper can almost sense the smallest of the irritation from the second to arrive, but they do not note it externally - they can hardly show anything externally if it hadn't been put to paper. Ghost needs not turn their shell to look at the other. Appearances never really mattered to them, and it certainly would not begin to now. They begin scribbling again, slow and methodical, turning over each word and letter before applying it to the paper. 'Thank you, Cheshā. It nice to meet you as well. No caves is understood and will not go or chart there.' The bug shows the paper again with the flick of a wrist. Legs shuffle and they prepare to make their leave and continue to map the interesting lands that this group called home.
[div style="width: 100%; height: auto; text-align: justify; padding: 20px; font-size: 15px; color: #f2ffff;"]They are aware, marginally, that their appearance is considered an oddity among these lands. They have a thick shell where face and expressions should be, a cloak that hides things, and long legs to scuttle about at a frightening pace. Their wings glow ever so faintly, and their unsettling appearance apparently means that they're normally hard to approach. Such is not the case now, where two faces of this group arrive to greet them. They hold their bow long, shell remaining dip and claw across chest. Respect must be shown to all, after all. Normally to those that earned it, but frankly in these lands they were finding out the gesture served just as well as any greeting. No swift greeting meant a fight, and Ghostwhisper had raised claws and gushed orange life out far too many times for their own conscious.
No caves. That seemed like an easy enough request. They pull the paper back towards them, tapping their utensil of writing against their shell in thought. Ghostwhisper can almost sense the smallest of the irritation from the second to arrive, but they do not note it externally - they can hardly show anything externally if it hadn't been put to paper. Ghost needs not turn their shell to look at the other. Appearances never really mattered to them, and it certainly would not begin to now. They begin scribbling again, slow and methodical, turning over each word and letter before applying it to the paper. 'Thank you, Cheshā. It nice to meet you as well. No caves is understood and will not go or chart there.' The bug shows the paper again with the flick of a wrist. Legs shuffle and they prepare to make their leave and continue to map the interesting lands that this group called home.
TAGS 7/22/20:
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FULZANIN is a 19 year old content creator. Currently roleplaying as Beezlebub in the Pitt and Jotunhel in the Typhoon. Time spent outside of work and writing is typically done in Creatures of Sonaria. FULZANIN is also in a happy relationship, and is aegosexual/asexual herself.
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