08-12-2015, 11:20 PM
He watched the worn looking mustard monkey raise a hand up and run it over his tubular shaped hair. He had said that it was called a... A... Promprodour? Pompadour? Pandadour? Ezrihel ran the word through his mind a few times, trying to get it right in case he had to say that accursed word again sometime in the near or distant future.
But the word was not enough to distract him from the rotting yellow of Cyburn's teeth. Oh spirits protect him from the man's must be stank breath. In the politest way possible, Ezrihel would begin to step closer to the man, so that there would be less than three feet of distance between them and hold his breath; this action of holding his breath would be unnoticeable by Cy. He would extend his left hand and shake the same hand of Cyburn in a firm handshake, bouncing their hands three times before letting go and taking a step back once more, his hand would return to his side at a normal speed. Denying a handshake would be one of the rudest things that Ezrihel could do, and as that was such a custom or tradition where he was from, he wouldn't be one to offend and possibly start some sort of fight; though after the handshake, his hand would feel sticky enough to warrant him reaching into his right pocket with his right hand and getting his clean red cotton handkerchief out to whip his left hand clean before returning the cloth to his pocket.
During all of this exchanging, he would keep himself guarded not letting his eyes fall from the face of his conversant, keeping his mind shielded from any sort of probing. With his mind being shielded as such, it would be impossible for the sword or Cyburn to get past the barriers and pry into his thoughts or memories. The exception to this would be if the huge black and silver sword strapped to his new acquaintance's waist decided to answer his question, which in that case, the sword would be projecting it's thoughts on to the tendril like probe of consciousness that Ezrihel had reached out to it earlier.
Not only would he shield his mind but he remained physically prepared to evade and in turn counter any sort of attack that this stranger might decide to launch at him. His knees would remain slightly bent, ready to take any sort of leg sweep directed at him; his haunches would be tensed ever so much, persisting in order to allow readiness should he have to jump backwards.
Why would Ezrihel decide to keep himself at ready like this, one might ask? This was some new situation thrust upon him, he was shoved into a new dimension with some stranger new comer who had greeted him by welcoming him to a place that directly clashed with the legitimatized history of his universe and species. On top of all of this, the man was filthy and had rotting teeth, he looked fairly homeless and didn't seem to care in the least about that. Anyone that cared that little about themselves couldn't be trusted in Ezrihel's eyes, for if they cared naught about themselves, then what insane and dangerous things might they be willing to commit, and for the sake of what?
And all these 'fears' would be confirmed with the next few words to leave Cyburn's mouth. Enemies? Just from being from the South? What for? Then he continued on to say that they were enemies, but with a common cause. Ezrihel was still kind of hung up on being called an enemy without a proper reason being given before. Ez had done nothing to this strange man, and he demanded to be seen as innocent without fault until he had indeed done something drastic!
Then the fault of the differing verses was explained to Ezrihel. So, this man WAS from some other dimension or universe, and... Sadly there was no way to get back as of yet. Hmm... His thoughts instantly went to his children, then to Santiana and Lilith. What would they do with the plantation? What would people think? Would they blame Santiana? How would his children grow up correctly without knowing their father? All these thoughts swirled around his head, and would make any normal human sick and consumed with fear, but he was not normal, nor a human. He was the reincarnate of Aza'Zayl, the fallen angel of vanity and war! He had experienced much worse than this in his past life. If anything, this was just a weaker form of exile and punishment.
"I can see you are confused," Cyburn started. Oh boy, how he had summed that one up in a not so correct manner. Ezrihel would safely assume that this man had yet to notice how pale he was, or how the corners of his eyes had a purple coloring instead of the normal human pinkish-red tone, or maybe the purple-blue undertones that made his skin look slightly grey when compared to a human. These thoughts didn't really bother him, and he hadn't shown any indication of his thoughts on his face as he was a reserved person. Of course they were not from the same verse. Only nobility or the rich wore pure white, and this man looked neither noble or rich.
It was now being explained that the North and South had gone to war over several issues, including the seemingly looming growth of the federal government and the ever growing reach of that said government trying to strangle the states, and the withholding of livestock. So, a civil war had developed in at least one alternate universe, Ez of course had his speculations about the possibilities of war over the growing differences that the South and North seemed to have with each other.
"Triceratops meat?" He said, raising his right eyebrow slightly to show his skepticism at the mention of dinosaurs still living and roaming about North America. Dinosaurs had been wiped out in order to make way for humans, or well, at least in his original universe. "We wiped out the dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago in order to make way for homo sapiens, but I guess it makes sense if you're really from some other universe, since humans haven't even rediscovered even the most basic ruins of the ancient cities from the old world. Let alone fossils of dinosaurs."
Then Cyburn added with an air of could-not-care-less something about an issue of slavery and racism, then slumped his form back and said something about mammoth meat from some other strange land. To Ezzy, it was obvious that the man was raving to himself in a quiet tone, so the ranting meant very little to Ezrihel. Cyburn suddenly snapped back to the conversation at hand and remarked that yes, he did know his name and about his hair, then questioned what his name was.
Hadn't he just answered that question? He could have sworn that he had just answered that question. Eh, he would answer and take the opportunity to ask Cyburn a counter inquiry. "As I said before, I am Ezrihel of Charleston, South Carolina. May I ask why you look homeless? Do they not have showers anywhere here, or are humans from your universe naturally more grimy and dirty looking since apparently my people did much less to help along your species?"
But the word was not enough to distract him from the rotting yellow of Cyburn's teeth. Oh spirits protect him from the man's must be stank breath. In the politest way possible, Ezrihel would begin to step closer to the man, so that there would be less than three feet of distance between them and hold his breath; this action of holding his breath would be unnoticeable by Cy. He would extend his left hand and shake the same hand of Cyburn in a firm handshake, bouncing their hands three times before letting go and taking a step back once more, his hand would return to his side at a normal speed. Denying a handshake would be one of the rudest things that Ezrihel could do, and as that was such a custom or tradition where he was from, he wouldn't be one to offend and possibly start some sort of fight; though after the handshake, his hand would feel sticky enough to warrant him reaching into his right pocket with his right hand and getting his clean red cotton handkerchief out to whip his left hand clean before returning the cloth to his pocket.
During all of this exchanging, he would keep himself guarded not letting his eyes fall from the face of his conversant, keeping his mind shielded from any sort of probing. With his mind being shielded as such, it would be impossible for the sword or Cyburn to get past the barriers and pry into his thoughts or memories. The exception to this would be if the huge black and silver sword strapped to his new acquaintance's waist decided to answer his question, which in that case, the sword would be projecting it's thoughts on to the tendril like probe of consciousness that Ezrihel had reached out to it earlier.
Not only would he shield his mind but he remained physically prepared to evade and in turn counter any sort of attack that this stranger might decide to launch at him. His knees would remain slightly bent, ready to take any sort of leg sweep directed at him; his haunches would be tensed ever so much, persisting in order to allow readiness should he have to jump backwards.
Why would Ezrihel decide to keep himself at ready like this, one might ask? This was some new situation thrust upon him, he was shoved into a new dimension with some stranger new comer who had greeted him by welcoming him to a place that directly clashed with the legitimatized history of his universe and species. On top of all of this, the man was filthy and had rotting teeth, he looked fairly homeless and didn't seem to care in the least about that. Anyone that cared that little about themselves couldn't be trusted in Ezrihel's eyes, for if they cared naught about themselves, then what insane and dangerous things might they be willing to commit, and for the sake of what?
And all these 'fears' would be confirmed with the next few words to leave Cyburn's mouth. Enemies? Just from being from the South? What for? Then he continued on to say that they were enemies, but with a common cause. Ezrihel was still kind of hung up on being called an enemy without a proper reason being given before. Ez had done nothing to this strange man, and he demanded to be seen as innocent without fault until he had indeed done something drastic!
Then the fault of the differing verses was explained to Ezrihel. So, this man WAS from some other dimension or universe, and... Sadly there was no way to get back as of yet. Hmm... His thoughts instantly went to his children, then to Santiana and Lilith. What would they do with the plantation? What would people think? Would they blame Santiana? How would his children grow up correctly without knowing their father? All these thoughts swirled around his head, and would make any normal human sick and consumed with fear, but he was not normal, nor a human. He was the reincarnate of Aza'Zayl, the fallen angel of vanity and war! He had experienced much worse than this in his past life. If anything, this was just a weaker form of exile and punishment.
"I can see you are confused," Cyburn started. Oh boy, how he had summed that one up in a not so correct manner. Ezrihel would safely assume that this man had yet to notice how pale he was, or how the corners of his eyes had a purple coloring instead of the normal human pinkish-red tone, or maybe the purple-blue undertones that made his skin look slightly grey when compared to a human. These thoughts didn't really bother him, and he hadn't shown any indication of his thoughts on his face as he was a reserved person. Of course they were not from the same verse. Only nobility or the rich wore pure white, and this man looked neither noble or rich.
It was now being explained that the North and South had gone to war over several issues, including the seemingly looming growth of the federal government and the ever growing reach of that said government trying to strangle the states, and the withholding of livestock. So, a civil war had developed in at least one alternate universe, Ez of course had his speculations about the possibilities of war over the growing differences that the South and North seemed to have with each other.
"Triceratops meat?" He said, raising his right eyebrow slightly to show his skepticism at the mention of dinosaurs still living and roaming about North America. Dinosaurs had been wiped out in order to make way for humans, or well, at least in his original universe. "We wiped out the dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago in order to make way for homo sapiens, but I guess it makes sense if you're really from some other universe, since humans haven't even rediscovered even the most basic ruins of the ancient cities from the old world. Let alone fossils of dinosaurs."
Then Cyburn added with an air of could-not-care-less something about an issue of slavery and racism, then slumped his form back and said something about mammoth meat from some other strange land. To Ezzy, it was obvious that the man was raving to himself in a quiet tone, so the ranting meant very little to Ezrihel. Cyburn suddenly snapped back to the conversation at hand and remarked that yes, he did know his name and about his hair, then questioned what his name was.
Hadn't he just answered that question? He could have sworn that he had just answered that question. Eh, he would answer and take the opportunity to ask Cyburn a counter inquiry. "As I said before, I am Ezrihel of Charleston, South Carolina. May I ask why you look homeless? Do they not have showers anywhere here, or are humans from your universe naturally more grimy and dirty looking since apparently my people did much less to help along your species?"
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