[This damn Pupu. Before his memory is broadcasted to any company, the first thing Dylas does is lash out at it, trying to catch it in his claws before it can fly off and do more work. He fails, and he’s left falling to the ground after his last lunge, catching himself on his hands. He glares at whoever he’s with.]
Don’t say anything—
[But then the memory starts to play. He and his company find themselves standing outside of what appears to be some sort of noble’s home. Despite the structure of the building saying ‘mansion’, the two golden crayfish statues and signs outside the doors show that it’s a restaurant. Though the windows are fogged up from the light snowfall, it’s clear that there’s not any business going on inside. That’s not even the worst part. Dylas, with his coils wound tightly and tense beneath him, spots someone familiar walking towards the restaurant.
Someone who looks exactly like him...only without the snake features. Even the scar on his face matches. The Dylas that’s approaching has a tail and furred ears instead of fifteen feet of scales. He doesn’t notice them and instead walks inside the restaurant, a cooler in one hand. The real Dylas, the Dylas that’s a snake, has gone extremely pale and is frozen, staring at the door.]
the ugly. cw: death
[The scene is vastly different, but Dylas is completely closed off after his ‘good’ memory. He’s not even watching this time. The Dylas in this dream looks different again. He stands over seven feet tall with legs and arms that are a little too long, and his antlers make him even bigger. Fortunately, he’s clothed. His skin is pale, and if one watches him long enough, they’ll notice that his body doesn’t move when he stands still. He’s not even breathing.]
Not a word about this to anyone, alright? Or you’ll regret it.
[A human with a gun speaks out first. They’re in a backroom. Even in the memory, it’s cold. Dylas looks unimpressed by the gun and by the threat and rolls his eyes. He’s the next to speak.]
I get it. Just tell me when you need me again. And bring the money.
[The gangster grins, and one of the people behind him laughs.]
Of course, of course! There are plenty of people for ya to dispose for us. I never thought hirin’ one of you freaks would save us so much trouble.
[Dylas doesn’t even react to the word freak. He keeps his gaze on the floor.
The Dylas watching the memory...or listening to it, because he doesn’t want to look, speaks up as the memory plays out.]
Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. This whole place can go to hell as far as I'm concerned.
[OOC: I have a strong preference for previous CR only for this, so please ask if you haven't tagged Dylas before but want to.]
no subject
[This damn Pupu. Before his memory is broadcasted to any company, the first thing Dylas does is lash out at it, trying to catch it in his claws before it can fly off and do more work. He fails, and he’s left falling to the ground after his last lunge, catching himself on his hands. He glares at whoever he’s with.]
Don’t say anything—
[But then the memory starts to play. He and his company find themselves standing outside of what appears to be some sort of noble’s home. Despite the structure of the building saying ‘mansion’, the two golden crayfish statues and signs outside the doors show that it’s a restaurant. Though the windows are fogged up from the light snowfall, it’s clear that there’s not any business going on inside. That’s not even the worst part. Dylas, with his coils wound tightly and tense beneath him, spots someone familiar walking towards the restaurant.
Someone who looks exactly like him...only without the snake features. Even the scar on his face matches. The Dylas that’s approaching has a tail and furred ears instead of fifteen feet of scales. He doesn’t notice them and instead walks inside the restaurant, a cooler in one hand. The real Dylas, the Dylas that’s a snake, has gone extremely pale and is frozen, staring at the door.]
the ugly. cw: death
[The scene is vastly different, but Dylas is completely closed off after his ‘good’ memory. He’s not even watching this time. The Dylas in this dream looks different again. He stands over seven feet tall with legs and arms that are a little too long, and his antlers make him even bigger. Fortunately, he’s clothed. His skin is pale, and if one watches him long enough, they’ll notice that his body doesn’t move when he stands still. He’s not even breathing.]
Not a word about this to anyone, alright? Or you’ll regret it.
[A human with a gun speaks out first. They’re in a backroom. Even in the memory, it’s cold. Dylas looks unimpressed by the gun and by the threat and rolls his eyes. He’s the next to speak.]
I get it. Just tell me when you need me again. And bring the money.
[The gangster grins, and one of the people behind him laughs.]
Of course, of course! There are plenty of people for ya to dispose for us. I never thought hirin’ one of you freaks would save us so much trouble.
[Dylas doesn’t even react to the word freak. He keeps his gaze on the floor.
The Dylas watching the memory...or listening to it, because he doesn’t want to look, speaks up as the memory plays out.]
Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. This whole place can go to hell as far as I'm concerned.
[OOC: I have a strong preference for previous CR only for this, so please ask if you haven't tagged Dylas before but want to.]