P’rihnn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
featherfoot) wrote2020-03-05 07:01 pm
featherfoot) wrote2020-03-05 07:01 pm
(no subject)
[This is a post for just messing around with P'rihnn, as he is not in any games but I still wanna work on his voice...]
a) as if in Duplicity (submissive)
P'rihnn had only been in this strange and foreign city for all of three days, and he had already seen more than enough of it. Everything about Duplicity is wrong. Why should he or anyone else be challenged over every move he makes, just because he hasn't handed himself over to be someone's property? Why does he need permission just to buy food? How come there are so few people willing to give him odd jobs to do, just because no 'Dominant' has given him permission to do them?
He's found people to be even worse about it in the Up, with people objecting to his mere unaccompanied presence, their eyes drawn to the collar wrapped around his neck. It seems he cannot even walk five steps without someone asking where his Dominant is, and while he bears the frustration in silence for a while, eventually his patience snaps.
"I will not suffer anyone to own me!" he snarls at a market stall holder that objected to him looking at the produce. Just looking! "I need nobody's permission to eat, or drink, or work, or live!"
Even with the sounds of the market all around, P'rihnn's voice is loud enough to catch the attention of passers by.
"And I certainly need don't telling where I can and can't look!"
b) any setting with a bar
It is late at night in a rough part of town, the local bars and eateries soon to close and people beginning to make their way home in a drunken and disorderly fashion. Around one bar in particular, however, a small crowd has gathered near the emtrance, shouting and jeering and finally cheering as someone is thrown through the crowd and lands on the ground in a heap.
The person responsible stands on the one chair still upright, hands on his hips and a proud grin on his face. "Anyone else?!"
c) any setting with monsters
As unbothered as P'rihnn is by spending his time hunting and fighting monsters, it does often leave him bloodstained, mudstained, and absolutely reeking of something unspeakably offensive. He might be more willing to put up with it if it weren't for his sensitive nose... as it is, this is one of those occasions where he decides it is better to wash himself off before returning to town, and finds himself secluded spot near a small, shallow river.
The place seems isolated enough, so once he has set up a small camp and gathered water to scrub the mess from himself, he doesn't hesitate to strip off and wash the grime from his body, taking a dip into the flowing water once the worst has been cleaned.
It's a nice day... if he must bathe, he should take this chance to relax. He can wash his clothes in a minute...
a) as if in Duplicity (submissive)
P'rihnn had only been in this strange and foreign city for all of three days, and he had already seen more than enough of it. Everything about Duplicity is wrong. Why should he or anyone else be challenged over every move he makes, just because he hasn't handed himself over to be someone's property? Why does he need permission just to buy food? How come there are so few people willing to give him odd jobs to do, just because no 'Dominant' has given him permission to do them?
He's found people to be even worse about it in the Up, with people objecting to his mere unaccompanied presence, their eyes drawn to the collar wrapped around his neck. It seems he cannot even walk five steps without someone asking where his Dominant is, and while he bears the frustration in silence for a while, eventually his patience snaps.
"I will not suffer anyone to own me!" he snarls at a market stall holder that objected to him looking at the produce. Just looking! "I need nobody's permission to eat, or drink, or work, or live!"
Even with the sounds of the market all around, P'rihnn's voice is loud enough to catch the attention of passers by.
"And I certainly need don't telling where I can and can't look!"
b) any setting with a bar
It is late at night in a rough part of town, the local bars and eateries soon to close and people beginning to make their way home in a drunken and disorderly fashion. Around one bar in particular, however, a small crowd has gathered near the emtrance, shouting and jeering and finally cheering as someone is thrown through the crowd and lands on the ground in a heap.
The person responsible stands on the one chair still upright, hands on his hips and a proud grin on his face. "Anyone else?!"
c) any setting with monsters
As unbothered as P'rihnn is by spending his time hunting and fighting monsters, it does often leave him bloodstained, mudstained, and absolutely reeking of something unspeakably offensive. He might be more willing to put up with it if it weren't for his sensitive nose... as it is, this is one of those occasions where he decides it is better to wash himself off before returning to town, and finds himself secluded spot near a small, shallow river.
The place seems isolated enough, so once he has set up a small camp and gathered water to scrub the mess from himself, he doesn't hesitate to strip off and wash the grime from his body, taking a dip into the flowing water once the worst has been cleaned.
It's a nice day... if he must bathe, he should take this chance to relax. He can wash his clothes in a minute...
A
So, quickly as he can, he slips in and hugs the man's arm, trying to tug him away.
"Darling, easy now... if you're too loud and rowdy, they'll find out, and in this place, 'tis better to lay low," he warns, trying to quiet him. "Did you just arrive?"
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"I'm not your darling," are the first words out of his mouth, "and whatever 'they' are going to do, I can handle it." He's certain of that much - it is not without reason that he is the Warrior of Light, even if he doesn't go around announcing himself as such.
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(There is another reason Felih is so cuddly, and it's mostly because it's cold and he doesn't like the cold!)
"These folk had the ability to rip us from our very realms, across the planes of existence, and can limit and nullify our magic and strength as they please. I would be more wary," he murmurs next, as he settles them both down on one of the benches. "I'm Felih. And your name?"
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That Felih is likely right about their situation, and that he should be wary, only annoys him more. and he turns his face away. “Never achieved anything by being cautious,” he grumbles. ‘...P’rihnn Tia.”
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"P'rhinn, then. We've been pulled here to aid the native scientists here discern some manner of 'gene' from us, or something like that. To be fair, I don't really care, as most of us just want this to be over so we can return home... but L.I.E.S. is not wont to loosen its clutches on its test subjects, it seems."
"You're quite the sulky one! Are you always so sour-faced, or is today a bad day?"
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"But you're right about one thing- most folk in this realm are Hyur. The only folk not Hyur are oft folk stolen away from their homes and their own realms- us included." He hums and sighs a little, the smile fading.
"We've yet to find any means of returning, despite our best efforts."
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Honestly, him not punching someone is the most to be expected of him in such situations, unless that someone happens to be a small child - he can’t help but be fond of children, always wishing to protect them most of all. Granted, Felih has done nothing to actually warrant a sudden blow to the face, but...
He nods along to Felih’s explanation, deciding that he is at least helpful enough to tolerate his presence. “Are there other miqo’te here at all, then? Or is it just me and you?”
Not that it particularly matters that he have others of his own kind around him, though the overwhelmingly hyur population is a little unnerving. Even Hingashi has roegadyn.
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"There are other Miqo'te here, yes. A few- not many. Those from our realm are few, you see," he explains. "Most are from other realms and worlds entirely. Oddly, this world's natives seem entirely Hyuran..."
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“...so just Hyuran. Throughout the entire world? I can hardly imagine it.
“I’ve travelled a lot, and the only place I can think of where it was just one kind is... mm... I’d say the Azim Steppe outside of Reunion, but there’s still a Namazu settlement.” Beast tribes count, in P’rihnn’s view, even if the local Xaela seem to regard them as something more like a new potential food source.
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"Hard to imagine, but 'tis the reality here. In this realm, only Hyur seem to exist," he sighs. "It's... frustrating. Having folk constantly say I'm not 'human.' Just because I'm not a race of human they know." His tail flicks irritably, before he hums and looks out around the garden.
"This entire realm is very strange, indeed. Such arbitrary segregation- and for what? It seems pointless, sowing only discord... all to keep folk in control, I suppose. The aims of this city's leadership is enigmatic as ever, strange and incomprehensible. And their punishments can be harsh- which I why I warn you that it's better to lay low."
C
There is a downside to picking a secluded spot to conduct one's ablutions, which is that anything which comes prowling by is similarly hidden from watchful eyes.
Shrouded by shrubbery, the creature known as Emet-Selch emerges out of the shadow of a thick bough, pale eyes looking past the slits in his facial armour, past the greenery, staring at the man by the shallow stream. He is unbothered by their naked state - only man feels shame in wearing their natural skin - and accordingly his gaze drops to the pile of clothes left behind on the bank.
Crawling forward on prehensile wings, one of his larger limbs slinks out from beneath the bushes. One lengthy claw snags the edge of the hunter's shirt and begins to drag the clothes into the shade where he hides.
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On seeing his clothes being dragged away, however, P’rihnn leaps out of the water and lunges to grab them and pull them away. “Oi!” They might be filthy, but they’re the only clothes he has right now!
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"Now look what you've done," his deep, gravel-like voice chides. It seems to echo partially in the hunter's head, foreign sounds spoken aloud yet somehow rendered comprehensible to their mind. He partially emerges from the greenery, revealing more of his eldritch form. "You need to be faster than that, dear boy."
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“I can fix it,” he says, ears low. “Now give it back. It’s not like you’re going to fit into it.”
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When the smoke clears, a man stands in place. Well, man-like. They have short, white hair cut close to his ears and piercing yellow eyes, but his skin is ashen grey and his fingers end in tapered claws. None of the rest of his face can be seen due to the red mask sitting on the upper half of his face.
As an afterthought, he pulls shadows about his naked form and drapes himself in loose, black robes. He knows how much they shriek over nudity.
He's still holding on to the clothing. As a result his face is a mere arm's length away from theirs now and he gives them a smile full of teeth.
"Boo," he whispers.