capencowl2020 | (no subject)

WHO: Khisanth, that extremely rude dragon who works for the government.
WHERE: The depths of a Louisiana swamp, a rural area, or out in any major city.
WHAT: A couple of starters for folks, an OTA for anyone who would like to meet a dragon! (Gently considering apping Khisanth some upcoming app round, so if anyone would like to kickstart potential CR in a weird way (8 )

[ I: a nice visit ]

There's a large swath of swampland in Louisiana that has been declared unsafe for human habitation. Anyone living within the rural area was forcibly relocated, and never really given a reason beyond it's unsafe, this is a mandatory evacuation. A few people stayed, they always do, but they haven't been heard from in a few years.

In fact, their skulls decorate the inside of a enormous and ancient hollow tree in the center of the cleared area. The government has made it very clear to Khisanth that she's not to attack anyone she hasn't been instructed to, or she risks breaking the terms of their very generous contract, but anyone in her territory was fair game. And good thing, too. Their skulls really bring this cozy tree-lair all together.

Anyone stumbling into this vast, private, unsafe wildlife preserve, as it's usually marked on maps, is going to be watched. Natives to this world get eaten immediately, no question there. But sometimes more interesting people show up, and Khisanth likes to handle those a little more carefully. When the whispers of lesser creatures, herons and songbirds and the like, make it to Khisanth's ears, sooner or later imPort visitors have an unseen audience. Or mostly unseen. Was that a flash of smooth black scales between those leaves? Something vast and nearly hidden rippling just under the still water? What kind of animal growls like that?

[ II: a contract hit ]

Or maybe this is business. Khisanth loves being assigned business. It's license to leave her territory without fear of reprisal, to hunt and kill and relish every moment of it. She mostly ignores that her handlers prefer her to cause as little collateral damage as possible, and it seems worth it to her that she's rarely ever called on as a result. It's all the more motivation to make her off-leash trips really count.

Maybe you're her target today, someone who has really pissed the government off. This makes you the hunted, chased by vast dark wings that descend unerringly on any hiding place you try to use. Buildings are torn apart without discrimination, cars knocked over and torn into on the off chance you're in one of them. Or maybe you're lucky enough to be a bystander, witness to the damage she causes as she rips through small town, suburb, or city in pursuit of today's target. Careful, though. Out to have a good time as she is, and in no rush to go back again, she's very easily distracted from her task. Will you be the excuse for a delay?

[ III: a truant ]

Sometimes Khisanth's visits to the outside world aren't all death and destruction. She's not been able to keep her precious shapeshifting powers fully hidden from her government keepers, but she's at least managed to misreport them. As far as she knows, no agents know that the big black raven that sometimes wings its way out of the swamp is anything other than just what it looks like.

This large, uncannily interested bird can be found in any city or town she decides to venture into. She perches on telephone poles, mailboxes, street signs, whatever will have her, and spends most of her time extremely interested in people. She follows them around, obligingly croaking bird sounds if noticed and interacted with. For the most part she's envisioning how their skull might look in a tree-lair display, but it's just wishful thinking. She knows better than to stir up trouble from this shape. ... And she even sort of likes the old woman in Philadelphia who tosses her peanuts and chopped up bits of chicken.

As ever, she keeps a bright eye out for imPorts on these days. They're just so very interesting to run into, always on the run or picking a fight or selling each other out. Never a dull moment when she manages to spot one of those guys.

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Maybe he should be offended at her commenting negatively on his scent, but honestly, after the length he's spent slogging through swamp land, it's probably a fair shout. Can't argue there.

And so instead he courteously accepts the offer (demand?) with a small bow of his head, squelching forward until he can take a few cautious steps onto the mound that she'd settled herself on, kicking his legs out behind him in the process to try and rid himself of some of that excess water. Turns out leather riding boots, no matter how expensive they are, just aren't made for hours of submersion in water.

"Speaking of scents," he starts, nose scrunching as he spares the swamp a sweeping glance of disdain, "What's a creature as opulent as yourself doing in a hell hole like this?"

Should he be more concerned about being this close to a dragon? Probably. But where's concern for his safety ever got him?

She shifts to make just slightly more room, half unfurling a wing overhead of him. A bit of shade from the very warm Louisiana sun -- or just a more convenient place to keep the wing in closer quarters, it's up for interpretation. His question, though, earns a scoff.

"Do I come into your home and insult it?" she asks, voice with just an edge of a growl to it. Her swamp is beautiful. It's lush, vibrant, full of life (and a lot of delicious snacks), and remote. The water is cool in the summer, and it's rarely winter. What more could she want?

She will concede, however, that it's less than ideal for a human. Particularly one dressed in leather boots. She eyes them with disdain equal to that he'd just turned on her beloved swamp.

"Take those off." The boots, she means. Hard to tell whether she doesn't just mean all of it, though, with no attempt to narrow her indicating stare.

The sudden and welcome shade has his squint turn skyward, features softening as he sees just what is sparing him from the searing afternoon heat. She can excuse it on comfort all she wants, but he's taking it as a gesture of aid, which only relaxes him all the more. So much so that her removal request isn't even questioned. He takes it to mean the boots rather than everything on his back, which is probably for the best because a naked human in this environment isnt beneficial for anyone, except maybe a dragon who doesn't want clothing stuck in their teeth.

With some awkward balancing he manages to remove each boot in turn, tipping out the handful of water in each and tossing them aside without much concern. They're beautifully crafted, but they're also beyond rescuing at this point.

"Yes, well, it's just that this place has more bloodsuckers than an abandoned Touissant castle..." And on cue he swiftly smacks a hand to the back of his neck, withdrawing it slowly to inspect his palm for any squashed mosquito he may have caught in the act.

"Then again, I imagine very little could bite through that shining armour of yours," he considers with wonder, attention drawn back to her, a few small steps forward as he extends a hand towards one of her forearms. He wanna touch.