``call for a proper introduction | [open]

[RISHAB]

Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen

Oh we’re still so young and desperate for attention

Twisting, twisting, turning, spinning, down and down through the cycle he goes—what cycle, you ask; why, the cycle, of course, the only one which matters. Life, death, time—all was wrapped into one single cycle, which twisted and twisted and twisted on down, deteriorating as it went—for weren’t things prone to just becoming more and more crappy with time? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, year after year after year—it all was the same, events repeating one another, leapfrogging on and on to give the illusion of variety, but never truly changing the players which dallied on through time. All that changed was the energy with which they jumped, as each and every one became weary, sluggish, even irritated, so that the cycle slowed or sped erratically, so that events became harsher, more mild, all without warning. Yet, in essence, as always, it was all just the same.

Boredom. Boredom was the feeling which prompted such rambling of thoughts, such philosophical debate. Even one such as he, who prided himself upon patience, could eventually grow bored. Boredom was a powerful emotion—and, indeed, it was an emotion, not simply the lack of one—capable of plaguing a person into drifting off, into losing track of time, or their surroundings; it could ignite an unstoppable drive to do something, anything, and could force even the least impulsive to do stupid, unthinkable things without a second—or, perhaps, even a first—thought. Boredom was dangerous.

Philosophical ramblings, useless, time and thought consuming things, did only very little to stave off the boredom which lurked so readily at the door, waiting to drag him out of his cozy home, to send him into all sorts of danger. It did not help that, somewhere, deep inside, or perhaps only as deep as the roots of the feathers which sprouted so readily from gaps in his scales, somewhere in him, there was a restless raptor pressing him to stretch his body as though there were wings to flourish, as though he might take readily to the wind and soar, just to stave off the boredom.

That was bull.

Feathers, all in all, are worthless things if not arranged in precise formation. Why, his were not even so terribly attractive—not that there was another demon worth attracting. As for taking to the skies, soaring on the wind—well, that would be out of the question even if he did have wings. Just as that restless hawk preyed on him from the feathers, the ground-bound serpent ensured his scales stayed in firm contact with the dirt. Taking to the air—pah!—no view was worth kissing death on each cheek and inviting him in the door.

A rolling shift of muscles lifted his head, shook it swiftly side to side, the feathers ruffling out momentarily before they settled again into sleek, sharp features. He sent the ripple of muscles down along his spine, tensing each portion of his body, scaled and feathered alike, as though even this miniscule motion might stave off the boredom. It certainly spared him the thoughts, as he took extra care to not miss a single stiff portion of his body, tossing philosophy and ramblings to the wind—let them do the flying and soaring; he was quite content here, on the ground, curled upon himself in the hollow beneath the roots of an impressively large tree. Yes, perfectly content.

He kept telling himself that.

Yet even that monotonous repetition could do only so much in order to stave of the ever-present boredom which so readily preyed upon him. It was like a mouse, he mused, an annoying little rodent, gnawing on the ends of his feathers—not painful, certainly not, but annoying all the same, a constant bother, one which could be ignored for only so long before one snapped, roared, and promptly squashed the miniscule thing into a puddle of organs and blood upon the ground. And, for him, it was about that time, that point when the attempt to ignore some minor annoyance become futile, and when the temper snaps and leads one in to action. Almost, but not quite—he’d not be snapping, oh no no, for do so might be dangerous. However, even he knew his limits, and with the threat of irrational thought ever lurking over his shoulder, he at last ceased his mantra and accepted it for a lie—he was, after all, most certainly not content.

Letting the air whistle through the wickedly curved hawk’s beak, a sigh which opted to sound far more like a hiss than was decidedly necessary, he at last sought to uncurl his gathered body, extending his head up and out, stretching his length up until he began to curve himself about the tree above, winding tightly about the trunk and cycling, upwards, upwards, up. A familiar rolling in his gut grasped him as the lengthy feathers of his tail brushed at last against the ground and then, suddenly, lost contact, and, without conscious thought, his muscles wound tighter about the tree, scale and feather alike dragging against rough bark as he drug himself up.

It was a lengthy process, taken in no great haste, more a method of stretching stiff muscles and sparing himself the monotony of boredom than any attempt to travel, but at last it came to an end, his head extended out along a thick lower branch, resting lightly upon it as he swayed his gaze back and forth, sharp eyes scanning the lightly waving grasses. So green, they were, at such a time of year, though boredom alone brought such a detail to his attention. Boredom, and the distinct uniformity of the movements of the grass—not a single rustle out of place, not even some miniscule rodent making its presence known. Another hissing sigh snaked out of his beak, and he laid his head still upon the branch, his body unmoving as it gripped the tree’s stalwart trunk. Well now, that pest of a hawk could hardly blame him for the complete lack of intrigue here—after all, he had tried, hadn’t he?

_{Harish
1022
lyrics © Panic! at the Disco
whoo, gotta love half-way recycling sample posts, haha. at least I added stuffs to it, though xD open to anyone; my boy needs to meet people, haha}

[EIKA]

What foul god or demon, with perverse intentions, had ever given the humans the secret of fire? The reek of it filled her nose, tainted beyond the far simpler scent of woodsmoke. There was metal here, and stone and ash and it was a filthy smell that clung even when she turned her head away. It tainted the very air with its stench, a telltale sign that one of those villages of humans had sprouted up nearby. Eika snorted, putting contempt in the sound as she gazed down upon the distant buildings. They had no idea of what they were doing, or if they did, then they were far too hopeful. The mountains teemed with demons - with her not being the least of those - as well as bad weather and bandits. Though she was no vulnerable short-lived human, if she had been she would not have chosen this place to make her own.

Eika could feel the wind shifting, ruffling her fur as it moved past her. Soon it would change, blowing from the west - and the offensive reek would be gone, blown back towards the village. Time enough till then to ensure that no human would live long enough to smell their tainted smoke as the wind reached the village. She could slaughter them all so easily, rush in and out, leaving a trail of destruction.

But no - to do so would be involving herself in their affairs, even if only for a heartbeat, and she had no wish to draw attention to herself. Let them eke out their existence in their act of defiance against nature. They would die without her helping it along. Feeling the wisps, darker than air though to her they felt like tiny breezes, shift on her back, she turned away. The peaks of the mountains rose nearby, easy enough to reach, and promising peace and solitude. The wind demon moved towards them instinctively, paws moving lightly on the ground, never knocking aside a stone. Her grace was dearly bought, and even here she could hear the whispering of the wind that would rise to a keen, loud and haunting once she was in the mountains. But there was a price for everything, and this was hers.

There didn't need to be a hesitation - she could just go, it would be enough. She could be at peace there, at peace and at war with the turmoil of being pulled and resisting. Her nature contradicted itself, but in the end she would give in - she knew that because the wind told her, and the air could not lie. But something made her pause, movement stilled as she looked around. Away from mountains and village was... the plains. She had been there before. Open, no cover, no shelter but sparse trees and shrubs - the worst place to hide. But hiding did not sit well with her today, and the wind youkai changed direction, skimming over the ground. As the sound of the wind faded, other than from the rush of her own descent into the grasslands, she felt its hold on her loosen, and she permitted herself to fly, running in leaps and bounds that should have been impossible.

This was her element, utterly free. She rushed headlong, unconcerned by who saw her - she was going too quickly to be stopped. Who could capture the wind? On a day like this, her fears seemed silly webs that could be brushed away with no trouble. She was Eika, the wind and no one could change that. Such arrogant, carefree thoughts, but she had reason. Her surroundings were a blur, rockier ground exchanged for grass that grew longer and more verdant with each graceful leap. When she was fully in the plains, she slowed at last, landing on the ground and running at a normal pace. It was hard to restrain herself, even now. There was so much room to move. How could she not be happy here?

Now she could scent the air, threading through the scents of nature to try and determine if there was a potential threat. Her fur - blue, pale and darker shades both - stood out in this place. She'd have to be lower than the grass to not stand out, though - she would see someone approaching her as easily as they saw her. The wisps of air at her back coiled as she came to a stop, head turning to study the horizon in each direction. Grass, unbroken save for the sight of trees. And in the trees - the dry musk of snake, combined with something more familiar, the scent of a hawk. Not far at all, which surprised her faintly. An odd mixture - a youkai that was both serpent and bird? It was not something she encountered before, and so Eika approached rather than leave, lifting her head to scrutinize the tree. Perhaps it was because a hawk was a creature of the air, kindred to her in the way that mattered - or perhaps she was just curious.

No matter what reason she had, it did not truly mattered. She said nothing - she did not see the need to.

((I took a page from you and recycled my intro post so this wouldn't be failingly short. It is still horrible though~))

[RISHAB]

Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen

Oh we’re still so young and desperate for attention

A true shame, it was, how little effort alone mattered—no matter how often it is said otherwise, it never truly is the thought alone which counts, now is it? It certainly was not in this case, as yet another sigh fell from his hooked beak, as the pulling of restlessness dragged itself through his body, prickling along feather and scale alike, begging, pleading, and soon demanding that he move, that he slither back down the tree and into the grass and onwards and onwards until he found something, anything, at all—and caution be damned, for satiating his boredom was far more important than seeing to it he didn’t get grabbed up by some demon lord and thrown in chains.

Well screw that.

Boredom and need to move could be damned for all he cared—as restless as he was steadily growing, caution would be the last to be sacrificed—and that hawk could rant and rave and throw its wings about all it pleased, he’d simply continue to ignore it. He was quite comfortable here, wound about this tree, where he could monitor his surroundings for yards piled upon yards around, in all directions, and where nothing—absolutely nothing—could sneak up on him. Let the hawk take joy in the feel of the wood against his body, of the lack of contact with the ground, even for this brief moment—that was all it was going to get.

Ironic, then, that so free-spirited a flyer was to happen across this abomination of ground and sky—it would seem that life itself were growing as bored as he, to allow such a meeting, to guide this canine-esque creature to come in leaps and bounds to rest so suddenly within his sight. Oh, and how that sight did follow ever movement of the great, noticeable thing! Sharp eyes, ever scanning perforce of caution and boredom, were swift to catch sight of the creature’s approach, of her gleeful flight across the plains, and some irksome mixture of jealousy and stabbing fear grasped his coiling body at the sight.

Oh, to stretch legs and bound as such, without need of wings or feathers, to be carried on the wind alone! Yet ever did the gravity-bound snake fear such thoughts, recoiling at first inkling, and he felt immediately the stiffening of muscles, pressing ever more firmly against the trunk of the tree which kept his bulk in place. He huffed his own disgust at the fear, but never once did the thought cross his mind of siding with the hawk, so gleeful at seeing this kindred creature in joyous flight, yet all the same so jealous. Disgust or not, he’d take heed of the fears which kept him safely upon the ground—far be it for him to defy gravity, only to wind up broken upon the ground. Hell no.

Yet ever did the hawk grip him, his soul and thoughts, just as strongly as the snake did, battling, battling, for it drove him, sent the order along his serpentine body, and his muscles shifted readily into action, answering the call of his earlier restlessness. She had fallen still, this great noticeable thing, and had taken no effort in disguising her steady gaze, that gaze which was so obviously centered upon him. And so readily did he answer that gaze! His body slithered easily over the rough bark, propelling his head out and out upon the branch, stretching him nearer as he allowed his own gaze to scrutinize without any attempts at subtlety, tossing courtesy to the wind—certainly not a difficult task.

Reaching the ends of his comfort, the final reaches of the branch which he considered thick enough to support his weight, he fell slowly still, his head lifted lazily above the branch, waving slowly back and forth as his gaze shifted across her, as though seeking better angles, better views. His beak cracked open, allowing a very hawk-like tongue to perform a distinctly serpentine motion, flicking out sidelong from the beak, tasting the air, letting the silence drag on, stretch on. He drew a long, slow breath, letting it hiss in through beak and nostrils atop it alike, before he let words flow from his beak at last. ”My, my, well aren’t you just a great, obnoxious thing? Loud of color, loud of size, loud of movement, all’s missing is a loud voice.” He paused, shifting his head to gaze at her with one eye, a smirk sounding its presence in the tone of every hissing word. ”Well then, let’s hear it, shall we? I want the whole set.”

_{Harish
767
lyrics © Panic! at the Disco
xD yay for recycling, haha. mine’s a bit rambly, still trying to get used to him—he’s a bit elusive xD}

[EIKA]

Eika gazed up into the tree, waiting patiently as the other yokai crawled out until the branch moved unsteadily. Predictably, he stopped there, judging the branch too thin to bear his weight if he went any further. Though his head was a hawk's the way he moved was all serpent, weaving back and forth as if preparing to strike at her. With that in mind, she made sure to keep enough distance between them to be considered safe - she didn't want to be attacked. The glee from running at her 'normal' speed was still there, making her aware of every change in the air, the quietest sound or flicker of movement. To give that up to shed a stranger's blood - that did not seem like a proper bargain. She wanted to speak in peace, and leave unharmed and harming no one else, if it was possible.

As he spoke, she tilted her head, pale blue eyes narrowing as she focused on the words. A smirk curled through them, carried by the tone. Contemptuous, smug... not a polite voice. He showed her no respect, so she decided to mirror that when he demanded that she say something. "I am afraid you must be disappointed," she replied, her own voice quiet. It was soft, whispering like the movement of a breeze. "I could growl at you, if you like. That might be louder." There was no inflection - she could care less what he wanted. She was just here to satisfy her curiosity, nothing more, and being insulted was not her idea of an enjoyable experience. Her gaze moved from the other's head to stare at the mixture of scales and feathers that marked the serpentine coils.

"Of course, you yourself must be of great length, and your words are obnoxious. So I suppose you are a great, obnoxious thing as well." Careless words, flung back with that same apathetic look. She truly didn't care how he responded to her, nor did she offer up her name. That was a foolish thing to do, especially when he had been the one to speak first. While he remained rude, she would be rude in turn. Her mind dwelled more on the wind, on the mountains that pulled at her with their steep sides and the treacherous gusts around their peaks. They had a strong hold on her, on her soul - she would probably return soon, maybe even the next day, to gaze at the human village in contempt and contemplate whether to go into the peaks or not.

The urge went in cycles, but the land was... unsettled. And that unsettled her in turn. She should not care of this new trend, of masters and slaves and what other demons did to each other and to humans. Their cruelties and pain and lives did not affect her own. If others were bothered by what was going on, they could fight back, or do something remotely useful, or even flee. She was not involved, would not be involved. Which was precisely why she avoided thinking of the situation, skirted around it until it yawned like a void of worry and half-formed fears in her mind. These new lords captured those they wanted. Slavery was a new thing to think about, something to try and understand - and inevitably fail at doing so. Eika didn't see the point in such a practice. It was so binding. How could they stand it?

No wonder she disappeared into the mountains so often lately - inwardly, she feared being trapped by something so final.