In the dark (dark)

[red6l99d]

WHO: Kankri & People who hate themselves enough to talk to him
WHAT: Just chilling with his tea and human food to get away from this tag thing he DNW le marker tag. The only tag they should be playing is tagging their triggers.
WHERE: In the kitchen (or around if it doesn't fancy for you, feel free to contact me or just drop a wildcard at me, I'll roll with it. Texting him if you've talked to him previously is alright too.)
WHEN: End of Januaryish
WARNINGS: None just yet but I'll edit it if I need to! Kankri is a non human but I doubt there's going to be something else more crazy than that unless someone gets him talking about his species lol.

There were few people here Kankri really felt like talking to or seeking out. Not because they were strangers, that was the main reason, but because he had a feeling none of them would get along with him and he was Too Old™️ and Too Tired™️ to care about it. If it meant what they were being told was real, that was all that mattered. He would help where he had to, get done what he had to and go back to being... whatever it was he had been before coming here. That, or this place really could take him back to his home and he'd have a second chance at saving everyone. ...A chance he wasn't sure if he would take. 

All those thoughts were private for the most part. He had told some of it to his partner, someone he was supposed to trust as far as he knew. Surface level things that anyone from the Game would know just to prove that there was an afterlife and that he was, technically part of it.

If anyone was brave enough to turn the lights on to find out what the light faint, animalistic glow when the very low, very natural ship light hit just right, they are the ones to happen across paradox space's most unwanted. The troll was clad in a bright red, turtle neck sweater with otherwise painted on pants that seemed to run well up past the hidden sanctity of his modest attempt at keeping his sweater at his thighs. Holding a mug of tea in his yellow taloned hands, he sighed while looking down onto a notebook, every so often writing down a thing or two when his mind came up with them. If these books had come with him, maybe they could go back as well. Anyone who wanted to sit down wouldn't be told no, but his red irises follow anyone who came in. He didn't trust them not to try to play this dumb game, and he really wasn't about to play it as much as get angry because of it. 

Comments

[ancestor]

"They are little things with wings like stained glass. Selfish, playful, and cruel in the way that small children can often be," she explains. "They are birthed from souls that never had the chance to fully form, and which became lost on their way to the Underworld. I have heard they will only accept guidance from the souls of their progenitors."

It is the first time Azem has thought of the fae in quite some time. She cannot tell if the way her stomach twists is from hunger, or from the very real possibility there could have been a small little soul waiting for her guidance.

She supposes in the end that it doesn't really matter.

"...All of my people were similarly 'luminous'." The aura to her skin is hardly as strong as it once was, though there is no denying its soft glow even now. She could rid herself of it in the common areas as easily as she maintains this smaller 'mortal' form...but enough of her kin has been erased that she will cling to whatever she can.

"Most everything about my home fairly gleamed, and the people were no exception." Azem grabs her pot of coffee, not even bothering for a mug. A flourish of her hand fills it with cream and sugar to her taste.

"What are your friends like?"

[red6l99d]

If she didn't know about Rainbow Drinkers then she certainly didn't know that talk of wings was derogatory in the right sense. For once, he held his tongue and listened to an explanation instead of just providing his own. The other day had weighed taxingly on him and he could care less to start another war. "They sound quite mystical. Fantastical in my limited scope of their existence. Limited, of course, in the way that I've only just heard of them and through your explanation." Making himself more comfortable, he continued. "If you happen to cross literature about them I would be extremely grateful if you would pass it along. I'd rather know the culture instead of accidentally insulting it."

An entire people who were akin to rainbow drinkers. That, to him, sounded like a caste. At least in his own terminology and knowledge. Really it-- Was she just...? Yes. It looked like that was the case and he made a mental note to start garnering items for this sort of thing to keep in his room. "My--" He was distracted momentarily by her just using the pot but he cleared his throat and snapped out of it. "Well they're a lot like me, I suppose. Dependant on a great many factors one could consider. Not so much social constructs or hierarchy anymore, but mainly we're the same at baser value."

Also a lie. He knew Beforus was just as bad about the Hemospectrum. "Horns, grey skin, eyes the colour of our blood when we're old enough. I would consider those 'the usual'. The glow only comes from one caste of blood but... Well that brings me to my curiosity. Why do you glow?"

[ancestor]

"'Mystical'? Hardly. They were a natural part of the world, no matter how much we wished they were not." With her free hand she draws a line in the air. A radiant, golden string of energy is left in the wake of her fingertip that she begins to swirl between her fingers. "Neither the literature or the culture exists any longer."


It takes some concentration, but soon enough she has the shape of one of the faeries fluttering above her open palm. It shines like fading sunlight; warm and golden like the thread she spun it from. The details are indistinct beneath the light of her magic, and faint in her memories besides.

The construct's movement as it twirls and dances gives off the energy akin to a particularly impish and playful child.

Azem dispells the illusion a moment later.

"Each and every one of them was unique in colour. They were insatiably curious and playful, and what they lacked in raw power they made up for with tricks and cleverness."

She remembers always being able to tell when one was near just by the way the hair on her neck stood on end. The fae were unsettling, though that was through no fault of their own.

Her hand, now unoccupied, quickly joins her other to hold her pot of coffee. It warms her skin, and masks the way her hands have begun to shake ever-so-slightly. There is no masking the way her skin has dimmed further, though when compared to the brightness of her magic it would have seemed lesser regardless.

"I glow because I have chosen not to dim myself." She knows that isn't what he's asking, but she has ever been one to fall back on playful retorts when she hasn't yet decided upon a better response. "But the aura is to do with energy.

"I'm afraid I've no understanding of caste in the context of blood. Why would only one of them glow?"