| Artist: Natalie Wik | Song: Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of Screams) | Word Count: 742 |
The chilling wind that traveled across the skin of the male stuck and held it's freezing grasp on his body like snow that would never melt. The eye of the male blinked slowly, his senses and mind dulled from the numbing effects of the icy night wind. Silence hung in the air for what seemed like forever. He floated in the air, hanging by the two feathery protrusions that came from his back. The hands that had been heading for the two weapons at his sides slowly drifted back to their usual positions, and his eye simply stared at the female Quincy in front of him.
Fluctuations of the energy particles was evident, as the spiritual senses that was bound within his very soul reached out and brought the sensation of the particle's movements towards his attention, but did nothing to avert his attention from the woman who stood in front of him, seeming to pierce through him with her gaze. It wasn't exactly something that unsettled him, or made him very uncomfortable. Sure, it was a little weird, and the slightest bit creepy to him, having someone stare at him like this. But he had experienced things far worse than just some simple staring.
Then, the silence was broken, and Henrex felt two emotions trigger from his brain and flood into his system. Awkwardness, and shame. The strict voice of the woman, reprimanding his very poor behavior. Well, it wasn't entirely his own fault. His entire life, both as human, and as who he was now was, for him, mainly revolved around getting stronger and restoring what he had lost so many years ago. His mind had partially forgotten how to act, especially as a guest, and even MORE especially around women. So, the right hand of the male would find itself moving towards the left arm, gently rubbing the limb in embarrassment.
But then, a blast of white light flashed out from the Quincy, momentarily blinding him, and causing his eye to shut itself quickly, his arm moving upwards to wipe the sudden tears that began streaming down his eye and cheek from the sudden exposure of the sensitive item that was his eye, to the brilliant white light. But, the slight distraction was not enough for him to forget about the embarrassingly rude actions that he had performed. Lowering his head and refusing to meet her eyes with his single own, his lips moved underneath the scarf, muttering."Sorry....I'm...not good with people. It's...been a few hundred years since I last spoke with someone in...this way.
Gripping his arm tighter, the male would slowly cause his body to float over to where she was standing, and gently lowering his body to where she stood, and his boots gently tapped against the wood, and his arms staying at his side. His left arm could be seen as much more fidgety than the right, constantly squirming and moving in quick, but slight movements. Thinking of the right combination of words to speak, Henrex's mind fumbled. Wiping out certain phrases, and coming up with new ones, only to quickly do the same thing over and over.
Reprocessing what he had just heard, Henrex quickly formed together what he believed to be a good way to say this. So, he gently pulled the scarf on his face down, revealing his face. Hideous. A good word to describe the permanent disfigurement that had become of the left side of his face. Old, white scars littered the left side, mixing in with the ugly black that patched his face as well, the remnants of the thing that had burned him. Closing his eye, Henrex drew in a breath."I'm Henrex. .Henrex Astillon. I'm a Hybrid, but I'm pretty sure you know already. You...are a Quincy. What's your name?"
Quickly thinking of what to do next, Henrex slowly and shakily would stretch his arm out, keeping his fingers uncurled, and offered a simple handshake. turning his head to the southeast, his hand trembling by the slightest. Was he doing this right? It had been around six centuries, or even more since he had last formally introduced himself. He was hoping that he didn't screw this up. He didn't want this to go bad. The last thing he wanted or even needed was a fight. So, it would be up to the Quincy in front of him to judge his actions.
She currently played judge, jury, and executioner. It was up to her what the sentence would be.
Coding Altered From: [THEFROST]'s