The roots are familiar, of course, possessing the look of the Qliphoth tree, its gnarled tendrils tearing through the terrain like a parasite, burrowing in and around the ground and structures adorning the landscape of the void. When they taper off, they curl up towards the sky like grasping fingers, reaching towards the unknown, while bulbous crystallizations of red rest at their bases, glowing, silent.
Yes, that part is familiar, but the rest isn’t. V can sense that this place is… other. That these roots mimic the dread reality of his world, but it's mimicry only. This is a reality only tangentially connected, making his nerves tingle along the lines of dark tattoos — disconcerting, curious.
But a path forward often means there exists a path back. Thus is the faith he relies steadily upon, cane clicking in time with his walk, spotting a figure in the distance whose knife gleams in the warping light of this place.]
Blood, mostly.
[The answer to her question, as he draws close enough to speak, leaning his weight heavily onto his cane, planted to the ground.]
I’d leave it alone. Piercing that will take some effort.
[ Nikola is startled and she whips around wielding the knife in front of her with the intention of defense. She doesn't lower her guard, but the incredulity in her eyes spikes as she observes this unknown factor.
(And for the briefest second, her pupils dilate into a different shape, but it's hard to catch.)
There's no immediate symbol she can make out from his person about what agency he's affiliated with. Then again, there's no agency she can think of that employed a lanky and frail man with intricate tattoos that covered most of his surface, a fancy cane, or black sandals (seriously???).
There's a tense silence that she breaks a few seconds in.]
Depending on the blood, then I'd probably still make it worth my while. I don't suppose you're here for a harvest?
Blood of innocents. Humans, mostly. Will that still fetch a worthy price, or is it an unworthy venture?
[He’s unbothered by the knife, unbothered by her caution. They’re nothing but strangers to each other, and to expect comfortability in an unknown place like this? A fallacy.
Also leave his sandals alone. His feet are comfy.]
What do you mean— [He gently lifts his cane with one hand, then tucks it beneath an arm as he moves forward, closer. Eyes track the path of the roots, which converge into a tight tangle just beyond where she stands. A path blocked.] —a harvest?
[ The white lit 'X' on her mouth mask changes shape into a symbol of confusion at his question and the revelation of the red bulbs:
Σ（￣□￣；）
She does lower her knife slightly but takes a step back as he moves closer. Nikola's had the wool pulled over her one too many times when it came to this job and while being less guarded got her more allies in the Void, it wouldn't filter out the persistently rough individuals.
The revelation of the tree consisting of human blood is nevertheless unsettling and looks far more dangerous than this man for the time being. And he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.
Her mask light changes to: ( ﾟдﾟ)]
Uh... Well. [ She reaches up to scratch her cheek. ]
I mean, emergency transfusions are a thing? [ Back to 'X' on her mask and she gazes at him curiously ]
And for that last part, if you're asking me that, that definitely means you're not raiding right now.
[ As a show of courtesy, she sheathes her knife. ]
So hopefully if I do this, I won't get beat up or stalked. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt you know.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The roots are familiar, of course, possessing the look of the Qliphoth tree, its gnarled tendrils tearing through the terrain like a parasite, burrowing in and around the ground and structures adorning the landscape of the void. When they taper off, they curl up towards the sky like grasping fingers, reaching towards the unknown, while bulbous crystallizations of red rest at their bases, glowing, silent.
Yes, that part is familiar, but the rest isn’t. V can sense that this place is… other. That these roots mimic the dread reality of his world, but it's mimicry only. This is a reality only tangentially connected, making his nerves tingle along the lines of dark tattoos — disconcerting, curious.
But a path forward often means there exists a path back. Thus is the faith he relies steadily upon, cane clicking in time with his walk, spotting a figure in the distance whose knife gleams in the warping light of this place.]
Blood, mostly.
[The answer to her question, as he draws close enough to speak, leaning his weight heavily onto his cane, planted to the ground.]
I’d leave it alone. Piercing that will take some effort.
no subject
(And for the briefest second, her pupils dilate into a different shape, but it's hard to catch.)
There's no immediate symbol she can make out from his person about what agency he's affiliated with. Then again, there's no agency she can think of that employed a lanky and frail man with intricate tattoos that covered most of his surface, a fancy cane, or black sandals (seriously???).
There's a tense silence that she breaks a few seconds in.]
Depending on the blood, then I'd probably still make it worth my while. I don't suppose you're here for a harvest?
no subject
[He’s unbothered by the knife, unbothered by her caution. They’re nothing but strangers to each other, and to expect comfortability in an unknown place like this? A fallacy.
Also leave his sandals alone. His feet are comfy.]
What do you mean— [He gently lifts his cane with one hand, then tucks it beneath an arm as he moves forward, closer. Eyes track the path of the roots, which converge into a tight tangle just beyond where she stands. A path blocked.] —a harvest?
no subject
Σ（￣□￣；）
She does lower her knife slightly but takes a step back as he moves closer. Nikola's had the wool pulled over her one too many times when it came to this job and while being less guarded got her more allies in the Void, it wouldn't filter out the persistently rough individuals.
The revelation of the tree consisting of human blood is nevertheless unsettling and looks far more dangerous than this man for the time being. And he sounds like he knows what he's talking about.
Her mask light changes to: ( ﾟдﾟ)]
Uh... Well. [ She reaches up to scratch her cheek. ]
I mean, emergency transfusions are a thing? [ Back to 'X' on her mask and she gazes at him curiously ]
And for that last part, if you're asking me that, that definitely means you're not raiding right now.
[ As a show of courtesy, she sheathes her knife. ]
So hopefully if I do this, I won't get beat up or stalked. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt you know.