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Oct. 14th, 2016 06:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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TW1: Mourning
[Dylas has never really grieved anyone before. Not properly, not with a memorial or a grave. He’s lost friends more times than he’d like to count, but for the last two and a half years he’s been living a life where people are pulled to and who leave the world at random. Or not so random, he thinks with a scoff as he kneels in front of a small memorial he’s erected. He’s dressed cleanly, solemnly, wearing a black vest and tie over a dress shirt and slacks.
The words he’s traced into the sand carry a simple message on it: ‘We were never safe. I'm sorry.’ It’s a message that carries his bitterness of a time gone by, and he leaves a small basket of carrots in front of it as opposed to flowers. Beneath the message he’s traced, he starts placing candles. He’ll place one, light one, and mutter something to himself. He makes sure to tuck the memorial somewhere out of the way, hoping people don’t see it. People who get close to him might hear him mentioning a former Tanagura resident, or they might hear the word “Haven”.
After he’s done, he moves to a private room to collect himself. His body language is all off, shoulders drooping, tail sullenly tucked between his legs. The odd person might even catch him with tears in his eyes or hear him muttering to himself or pulling out his palm reader to look at a photo when he thinks he’s all alone. Trying to set up a memorial is taxing and gutwrenching for him, so he may bump into another character as he moves from place to place or to leave, but instead of snapping, they get an unusually polite reply.]
I’m sorry about that. Are you alright?
TH2: Dies Ater
[Life is never easy and is sometimes confusing. While Dylas’ stature and permanent angry resting face is enough to scare people off from getting too close to him most of the year, Elites are once again flocking to touch his real tail (“it’s not from a potion!,” someone cries) and take selfies with him while offering him digital carrots. The women leave Dylas flustered, but he always looks like he’s about two seconds away from punching the men, especially the ones who start petting him over the clothes or reaching up for his ears. But it’s no use, there’s a small crowd, and his face is flushed red as he takes another gift and looks for a spot to throw it...when he spots someone watching.]
H-hey! You, c’mon!
[It’s up to whoever he’s calling out to help him or just laugh at his situation, but he might end up in jail if he ends up pushing people off of him. Whoops. In his effort to escape, if he sees someone unassuming enough, he might step into line with them to go on a ride (if they’re an Elite). Otherwise, he can be found looking exasperated and a little worn out, like his clothes have been pulled on and his hair has been ruffled. Luckily, there’s a bench and he has a fur brush for times like these. What. It happens.]
TH3 (part 1, the potion): CW: Transformation, possible xeno kink
[This one hurts. This one really fucking hurts.
Behind one of the rides or tucked between an alley, Dylas has decided to chance the one of the potions again. He’s still clutching the bottle shaped like a vial, a few silver drops still stuck to the sides of the glass, but it’s otherwise empty. Which means he’s gone for it, and this one feels like a much bigger punch to the gut than the last time he’d taken it or the time he’d been bitten by a wolf...or...well, anything. Sweat is already clinging to his body as he feels like...like something is being stretched or pulled.
It isn’t long before he has to support himself on a nearby rail or bench, but at least there’s no one around to see his pain, right? Except maybe this is one of those times where he isn’t so glad to be alone, since there seems to be some sort of...nub growing from his waist, straining his clothes, wriggling.
This isn’t going to be pleasant, is it?]
TH3 (part 2, the horse): CW: Transformation, possible xeno kink
[This is absolutely ridiculous.
As a ‘demon,’ or so he called himself, Dylas stood out in crowds at an impressive 6'5". But now, as a centaur, he stands out as above seven feet tall and he’s about six feet long. This has only made attention from the Elites who want to celebrate him even worse. Someone’s seen fit to attach a saddle to him as a prank (where did they even find one on such short notice?), and he can be found throwing a bridle at his feet. Like before, he seems exasperated and upset.
He can’t even tell how striking he is. Though his human torso is still lean, his equine half is stocky and sturdy, every inch similar to a beautiful, black Clydesdale stallion. His fur is sleek and black with hints of silver, and his tail remains largely unchanged except that it’s grown longer to fit his new frame. A few ribbons have been tied into his tail that he can’t reach, though sometimes he does a turn so he can stare at them in disdain, likely after someone takes a picture of him.
His only goal is to get out of the theme park, so other people will spot him on the move, carefully maneuvering his huge body towards the exit. He looks uncomfortable in this form, not happy. When he has to stop and catch his breathe, he even mutters about ‘why did it have to be a horse’ or how ‘horses are the worst’. People who stare to long will get snapped at as his nostrils flare and he feels a drive to dig his hooves into the ground, clomping.]
What the hell are you looking at, huh? Keep moving!
[Or, if you’re Gyro, Dylas will eventually be stuck unable to move. A few drunken natives had dug up some old equipment and tried to nail a decorative horseshoe to Dylas’ legs, and now he’s holding up one of his front legs limply because pressing down on it is too painful.]
[ooc; because of the nature of this post, any smut with Dylas' centaur form will have to be discussed with me first. I won't move things in a smutty direction until someone discusses with me what they want, otherwise I'll assume gen! But I'm definitely down for smut there, I'd just prefer to communicate it so we're all on the same page. I can be reached at
ForestTemple if anyone has questions.]
[Dylas has never really grieved anyone before. Not properly, not with a memorial or a grave. He’s lost friends more times than he’d like to count, but for the last two and a half years he’s been living a life where people are pulled to and who leave the world at random. Or not so random, he thinks with a scoff as he kneels in front of a small memorial he’s erected. He’s dressed cleanly, solemnly, wearing a black vest and tie over a dress shirt and slacks.
The words he’s traced into the sand carry a simple message on it: ‘We were never safe. I'm sorry.’ It’s a message that carries his bitterness of a time gone by, and he leaves a small basket of carrots in front of it as opposed to flowers. Beneath the message he’s traced, he starts placing candles. He’ll place one, light one, and mutter something to himself. He makes sure to tuck the memorial somewhere out of the way, hoping people don’t see it. People who get close to him might hear him mentioning a former Tanagura resident, or they might hear the word “Haven”.
After he’s done, he moves to a private room to collect himself. His body language is all off, shoulders drooping, tail sullenly tucked between his legs. The odd person might even catch him with tears in his eyes or hear him muttering to himself or pulling out his palm reader to look at a photo when he thinks he’s all alone. Trying to set up a memorial is taxing and gutwrenching for him, so he may bump into another character as he moves from place to place or to leave, but instead of snapping, they get an unusually polite reply.]
I’m sorry about that. Are you alright?
TH2: Dies Ater
[Life is never easy and is sometimes confusing. While Dylas’ stature and permanent angry resting face is enough to scare people off from getting too close to him most of the year, Elites are once again flocking to touch his real tail (“it’s not from a potion!,” someone cries) and take selfies with him while offering him digital carrots. The women leave Dylas flustered, but he always looks like he’s about two seconds away from punching the men, especially the ones who start petting him over the clothes or reaching up for his ears. But it’s no use, there’s a small crowd, and his face is flushed red as he takes another gift and looks for a spot to throw it...when he spots someone watching.]
H-hey! You, c’mon!
[It’s up to whoever he’s calling out to help him or just laugh at his situation, but he might end up in jail if he ends up pushing people off of him. Whoops. In his effort to escape, if he sees someone unassuming enough, he might step into line with them to go on a ride (if they’re an Elite). Otherwise, he can be found looking exasperated and a little worn out, like his clothes have been pulled on and his hair has been ruffled. Luckily, there’s a bench and he has a fur brush for times like these. What. It happens.]
TH3 (part 1, the potion): CW: Transformation, possible xeno kink
[This one hurts. This one really fucking hurts.
Behind one of the rides or tucked between an alley, Dylas has decided to chance the one of the potions again. He’s still clutching the bottle shaped like a vial, a few silver drops still stuck to the sides of the glass, but it’s otherwise empty. Which means he’s gone for it, and this one feels like a much bigger punch to the gut than the last time he’d taken it or the time he’d been bitten by a wolf...or...well, anything. Sweat is already clinging to his body as he feels like...like something is being stretched or pulled.
It isn’t long before he has to support himself on a nearby rail or bench, but at least there’s no one around to see his pain, right? Except maybe this is one of those times where he isn’t so glad to be alone, since there seems to be some sort of...nub growing from his waist, straining his clothes, wriggling.
This isn’t going to be pleasant, is it?]
TH3 (part 2, the horse): CW: Transformation, possible xeno kink
[This is absolutely ridiculous.
As a ‘demon,’ or so he called himself, Dylas stood out in crowds at an impressive 6'5". But now, as a centaur, he stands out as above seven feet tall and he’s about six feet long. This has only made attention from the Elites who want to celebrate him even worse. Someone’s seen fit to attach a saddle to him as a prank (where did they even find one on such short notice?), and he can be found throwing a bridle at his feet. Like before, he seems exasperated and upset.
He can’t even tell how striking he is. Though his human torso is still lean, his equine half is stocky and sturdy, every inch similar to a beautiful, black Clydesdale stallion. His fur is sleek and black with hints of silver, and his tail remains largely unchanged except that it’s grown longer to fit his new frame. A few ribbons have been tied into his tail that he can’t reach, though sometimes he does a turn so he can stare at them in disdain, likely after someone takes a picture of him.
His only goal is to get out of the theme park, so other people will spot him on the move, carefully maneuvering his huge body towards the exit. He looks uncomfortable in this form, not happy. When he has to stop and catch his breathe, he even mutters about ‘why did it have to be a horse’ or how ‘horses are the worst’. People who stare to long will get snapped at as his nostrils flare and he feels a drive to dig his hooves into the ground, clomping.]
What the hell are you looking at, huh? Keep moving!
[Or, if you’re Gyro, Dylas will eventually be stuck unable to move. A few drunken natives had dug up some old equipment and tried to nail a decorative horseshoe to Dylas’ legs, and now he’s holding up one of his front legs limply because pressing down on it is too painful.]
[ooc; because of the nature of this post, any smut with Dylas' centaur form will have to be discussed with me first. I won't move things in a smutty direction until someone discusses with me what they want, otherwise I'll assume gen! But I'm definitely down for smut there, I'd just prefer to communicate it so we're all on the same page. I can be reached at