Kenos Inbox
voice / text / communion
D's mind is a cacophony of things.
The landscape is shadow and darkness, and it is chilly and reserved where D sits in it; he feels like a simple young man. Quiet, soft, human. But behind the stoicism is a warm, sensual, and elegant sliver of something primordial and powerful. Embracing it is hypnotic, arousing, yet also a little horrifying.
Amidst all of this is something else, too: a craggled and old presence which can be heard on occasion cackling or chattering separately, the crusty voice belonging neither to D or the peculiar entity in the space.
The landscape is shadow and darkness, and it is chilly and reserved where D sits in it; he feels like a simple young man. Quiet, soft, human. But behind the stoicism is a warm, sensual, and elegant sliver of something primordial and powerful. Embracing it is hypnotic, arousing, yet also a little horrifying.
Amidst all of this is something else, too: a craggled and old presence which can be heard on occasion cackling or chattering separately, the crusty voice belonging neither to D or the peculiar entity in the space.
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The taciturn expression on his face....... softens slightly. He reaches up to pet the top of the dog's head in what could be a fond way. Dogs... Loyal, steadfast, enduring. He's a fan, he guesses.]
Hello.
[The bump to his leg gets his attention. Oh... cat? There are many animals here...]
I haven't named it.
[Not because he is mean, but because he isn't Picking A Name material... It's fine.
Hesitation keeps him from the cat. He already pet the dog. Should this happen at the table? Oh well. He leans his arm down and gives the cat some pets for peace.
Then he tries to see if he can lift it into his lap.]
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D is doing a great job of not being a hater, speaking of, and his efforts are rewarded when the cat - henceforth known as Midnight - allows itelf to be manhandled upwards. It waits patiently until it's let back down, this time onto a soft lap instead of a hard surface, whereupon it starts kneading at one thigh. I'm going to assume someone in the house is trimming these cat claws otherwise D is going to have little puncture holes in his pant legs.
Once satisfied, it settles down into a little danish, where it will stay for the rest of the thread until someone (D) kicks it off. Okay I'm leaving again, goodbye forever. ]
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Which means immediately inserting himself into the conversation. ]
Gray might have name suggestions. She's named most of the animals in this house.
[ Like their chickens and most of their cats... Sometimes the gray-haired girl named Gray is bestowed with naming rights and that's how they got their white cat named Snowflake, their black cat named Midnight, and their fluffy cat named Fluffy. ]
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I wouldn't want to impose. It's okay for an animal not to have a name...
[ Sometimes a person likes to have a horse with no name for the mystery factor. Also she's quite aware that she's trash at naming things, thank you very much. ]
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[Will he even drink this? Stay tuned.
Claws are fine. He has stupid, coated, special 12,090 AD leather pants. Somehow, they are pin-prick resistant.
Val here only long enough to trap D in the seat with a cat. Now he can't go anywhere because who would move a sweet cat...? He offers the feline a few strokes, then he leaves it be as if politely giving it personal space despite having none of his own.
His attention lifts to Gray, and he peers at her from beneath his lashes momentarily before glancing at Dokja. He has always tried to take care of every cyborg horse he's had, but... sometimes... in his line of work at home...
Anyhow, he never considered naming them because of attachment issues, but maybe that is where he had unintentionally been mean.]
I don't mind, but you may want to see it before giving it thought.
[A nightmarish, Lovecraftian horse named (looks at the names of all of the animals here) Sunrise.]
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It seems like D is a good sport, and agreeable enough that he might not protest too much if Gray tried to name his horse Sparkles. It's a small consolation as pressure weighs down on Gray's fluffy shoulders, but the momentum of the moment is already bearing her irrevocably toward horse namedom. She rises from her seat to poke her head out the window for a gander at the robo-horse.
It's. Well, it's something. Gray is glad that D can't see her mildly sweating as she struggles to interpret what looks like one of the Four Horses of the Apocalypse now idling in the backyard. A couple chickens have come outside to sit plumply near the horse.
It's easy to name a cat Fluffy, but there's no way she can try to give this horse a pet name. She is not above cheating. Still leaned out the window, she calls to the horse. ]
Excuse me...! What kind of name would you like?
[ Since coming to Kenos, Gray has gained the ability to speak to animals. She will happily abuse this ability in order to gain intel on this horse, or at least get an impression of its personality or wants. If it even has those. It might just be a horse-shaped robot. ]
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Dokja is simply vibing... So far, his plan hasn't crashed and burned around him, and he's quietly patting himself on the back for it. Soon enough, he might be able to leave these two on their own, completely unsupervised, and trust that they'll... bond over gothic architecture or something.
For now, he leans back in his seat as he watches Gray head for the window. Is it Anna's turn to rp an animal... ]
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The horse outside is as large as a Clydesdale without the fluff or broadness. It's a lean, black, and powerful gelding with scarlet eyes and a pair of organic horns. The neck, body, and legs are metal plates and joints, and the face is a conglomerate of flesh and steel carapace. It's saddled respectability, but it truly looks like something a demon would probably be riding.
(Maybe that isn't so far-fetched considering.)
D turns his head to attentively watch Gray by the window as the horse looks up at the peculiar sound of a voice is somehow understands. One hoof digs at the ground, careful of the chickens sitting, of course. There are enough horse innards left to give way to a personality. A strong, honorable voice reaches back out to Gray.
Erebus, it says, because of course it does. Of course.]
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She thanks the horse politely before backing out of the window and reclaiming her seat with a barely there smile. She is mostly just relieved to have survived this harrowing trial, and her shoulders are more relaxed as she moves for her tea again. ]
Erebus.
[ In the end, it's really only half a step away from "Midnight".......... ]
It seems like a good horse.
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A good name for a good horse.
[ There is some bias here because D's horse has not tried to maim him like a certain other horse that has been boarded at his home. Anyway, the sound of boiling soup has Dokja rising from his chair and heading back toward the kitchen. Looks like dinner's ready... ]
Keep talking. I'll bring out the food.
[ THE FOOD IS JUST SOUP. ]
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[D continues to watch Gray at the window during the strange revelation, and then he... looks across the table at Dokja as if Dokja will somehow have the explanatory answers for this entire event.
Erebus...?
Dokja leaves him answerless however, but D at least has the decency to say:] Thank you. He is.
[For a long moment, he gazes again at the window, a bit baffled this horse has a name which he hadn't bothered to ever realize. Huh.
His eyes lower to the tea he hasn't yet touched then raise to Gray. He is alright with not talking actually... They can sit here in silence.
He thinks for a moment to ask them about what has been happening in Kenos, but he figures Dokja would disapprove. So... he... well:]
Do you like to bake?
[He still thinks randomly asking Gray about pie is very weird.]
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I think I like it an average amount... [ If the average is at least one pie baking session a week. ] But, um, I'm trying to perfect my technique, so I've been doing it more lately.
[ She continues by lowering her voice and leaning a little across the table conspiracy-like, as if this weren't an open floor plan and Dokja weren't a whole ten feet away. ]
Did Mr. Dokja tell you to ask about that?
[ Gray is no Sherlock Holmes, but she's starting to feel a very meddlesome hand guiding this meeting. ]
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D does not look in Dokja's direction when Gray leans in to ask what is absolutely true. He has a perfect opportunity to throw Dokja under the bus here, but he is too kind of a young man. Tch.]
He said you had been making a lot of pies as practice.
[This isn't entirely a lie. Dokja had told him this after trying to convince him to show up out of the blue and harass Gray for conversation about pies.
Luckily, he knew that was fucking weirdo behavior, so he didn't do that to Gray, and instead he settled on an invitation to (gestures at this awkward playdate).]
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D's comment reflects an objective truth, but it also isn't a denial. Hmm. It's a little suspicious still, but probably harmless, so she won't pursue too deeply. Though she has to wonder what else Dokja has said about her, given that Dokja's description of D included a woeful lack of friends. ]
Would you like a pie? What flavor do you like?
[ She can't actually imagine D interacting with a pie. ]
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He does not think he is friend material. Long suffering vampiric horrors and all of that.
Speaking of, maybe Dokja will learn he's half of a damn vampire shortly depending on how D figures out an answer. He doesn't want to seem ungrateful, and he doesn't want to dissuade Gray from baking... but he also doesn't really eat much in general despite being here today for... dinner...]
I don't eat often, so you don't have to go through the trouble for me.
[There's really no way to say that without it sounding weird, huh?]
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Gray doesn't respond immediately, busy taking a first sip of tea. As she slowly lowers her mug, her eyes fall on D's ears poking through the black curtain of his hair.
Pointy ears.
Pale skin.
Sharp features.
Giant sunblocking hat.
Doesn't eat often.
Liem suddenly jumps to Gray's mind.
Liem, who is a vampire who has dined on Gray's blood.
Her eyes go round, even though a part of her thinks it might just be a coincidence. She looks at D's untouched cup of tea. Her little noggin goes on overdrive. It's a moment before she settles on what she hopes is a sufficiently coded comment. ]
I wanted to try making one with... blood sausage. [ Normally she'd call it black pudding. ] But I don't know many people who like it. [ Not actually true... or it wasn't, back in London. ]
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Just when it all starts to click for Gray, Dokja returns to the dining room with a tray of bowls, napkins, and utensils. The utensils are spoons because this is still just chicken noodle soup.
Unlike Gray, Dokja is as blind as a bat and has no idea that D survives off of an abnormal diet. So, being stupid oblivious, he sets a steaming bowl of soup down in front of D, sliding over a napkin and spoon as well, before doing the same for Gray. This is the saddest dinner ever, actually, but Dokja doesn't seem to think that as he sets down his own bowl, emptying the tray.
And then he straightens back out, looking a bit proud of himself that he's managed to get this far. Also? He had walked in on Gray and D having a conversation on their own? This evening is going great. ]
Did you guys need anything else?
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It is rare for D to ever truly emote, but he very much looks mildly surprised by what Gray tells him. He realizes suddenly she must assume what he hadn't admitted (or maybe she just assumes he is a monster of some kind, fair), and he thinks there is a bit of a misunderstanding here when it comes to... dietary needs and also why he is here.
He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Dokja reappears at the table with the food of which D literally just told Gray he didn't eat often. Hm. His eyes lower to the steaming soup. This is less bad to his palate than if it had been fancy actually.]
This is fine. Thank you.
[He is going to now have to pretend to politely eat some of this since Dokja is so ignorantly satisfied with life. He will take up the spoon and put it in the bowl...]
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She has a lot of space in her heart for Dokja, but in this moment she's exasperated as he comes bearing chicken noodle soup. What was D about to say? Is D's alleged vampirism supposed to be a secret?? It's hard to tell if Dokja is in the know; he was the one who wanted to have dinner, but if D is anything like Liem (who isn't a full vampire anyway), he might be perfectly capable of eating normal food...
Gray watches, mildly stressed out as D lowers his spoon into his bowl with as little emotion as he's showed for most of the past ten minutes. If he really looks like he's forcing himself to eat, should she do something about it?
She absently pulls her soup closer, though her appetite is now nearly as absent as D's. Is she probably staring a little too intently at D? Yes. ]
Um.... Mr. Dokja, would you mind slicing some bread and cheese for me?
[ A task she would normally be happy to do for herself, but she would also like Dokja to scoot away for another moment. ]
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He nods once to D before his attention is pulled over to Gray, and Dokja tucks the tray under an arm as he makes his way back into the kitchen. ]
Sure thing, Gray.
[ That's an easy enough task to complete. And it'll certainly leave an opening for these two to get back to their gossiping...
Anyway, here's some background noise of a bread knife sawing at some bread. ]
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D surprisingly puts soup in his mouth as Gray makes her request. This probably doesn't help Dokja's lack of knowledge. D doesn't vomit, or shrivel, or twitch in disgust. He eats perfectly normally because, like Liem, he is still half human.
The soup isn't even bad. He just doesn't have much taste for human food, and often he is overly paranoid about what people are putting into it. Case in point: a hundred and twenty year old woman poisoned him with tea sometime before he arrived here.]
It's alright, [he says first quietly after Dokja has moved away.] I'm not here for that sort of thing.
I came because he invited me.
[And it was a better option than Dokja's conversational dodge to appear and ask Gray about pie.]
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D's reassurance is as good as an admission to Gray's ears. She relaxes not because she suspected D of lying in wait to suck Dokja's blood, but because it's the first clear sign of D's consideration for Dokja as a friend — even moreso if D wasn't really looking forward to the dinner itself.
It may come across as a non sequitur, but Gray asks quickly, ]
Do you like to eat food like this?
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D glances again at the soup below. The thoughtful gesture is what means more to him than anything else. The edges of his face soften slightly.]
Not particularly, [he admits quietly,] but the food isn't what is really appreciated.
[He's a good boy, so the company is what's nice regardless of how deeply he believes his life will always be better alone.]
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[ That's sweet of D to say, and works further in favor of him being a very nice friend and person beneath his high concept vamp-goth exterior. But as one of the makers of the soup, and the one who subtly pushed for something more substantial than seasoned water, Gray feels some responsibility for D being forced to eat something he doesn't prefer.
Making up her mind and having no time to lose (depending on Dokja's slicing speed), Gray picks up her bowl in both hands and begins to chug her soup with unlikely speed. Once she hits the halfway point, she shovels a sizeable portion of chicken and noodle into her mouth. Finally she leans forward to swap her half-empty bowl with D's, smoothly so that it hardly makes a sound and no drop of soup is spilled.
There will be no dialogue in this tag because Gray is too busy trying to speedrun these chicken noodles into her stomach. Please proceed. ]
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Before, D only looked very slightly surprised. A subtle shift in his brows and his mouth. But now, his expression is full-on shocked by Gray's sudden soup guzzle. WH-- Slowly, one of his hands begin to rise, only to stop before it can get much farther than the edge of the table. There's no use; she is drinking the soup too fast for him to try to stop her, and if he says anything, Dokja will also join him in bewildered confusion.
His hand returns to his lap, careful of the black cat who is somehow unaware (or uninterested) in its owner's antics.
Both eyes lower to the half-empty bowl slid in front of him. He's really sitting here with the spoon still in one hand and a the You didn't have to do that embedded into his haunted Victorian eyes. What does he say to this?!]
...Thank you.
kicks my way in here now that i've been promised feet pics (no)
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