Dylas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sullenstallion) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2017-09-04 02:17 am
sullenstallion) wrote in nysalogs2017-09-04 02:17 am
Entry tags:
[OPEN] Straight from the horse’s mouth...
Who: Dylas (sullenstallion) & you! Open to all.
What: Dylas has brand new superpowers! Unfortunately, he did not ask for them, and he does not know how to use them. Life ensues.
When: Early September
Where: Around Olympia
Warning(s): Rated H for Horse.
i. the market district
[That morning, when Dylas woke up, he felt different. His head felt a bit cloudier than usual—like he was interrupted in the middle of a deep dream. It’s that level of grogginess that makes everything seem brighter, louder, a little more repulsive. It’s not unusual for him to wake up in a grumpy mood, so he brushes it off and goes about getting ready for his day. Up first is getting something to eat, so he decides to head to the market in an attempt to wake himself up before his shift at the clinic begins.
It’s while he’s there that everything takes a turn for the worse. Being around so many people kicks what he doesn’t realize are his new senses into overdrive. One moment, he’s inspecting a fruit that looks like a bunch of grapes but with tiny apples instead, and the next his ears are swiveling in every direction, picking up every sound around him. His tail sets to lashing as he turns around to snap at a man complaining about his commute, only to yell ‘shut up!’ at absolutely no one; the sound came from much further away.
He doesn’t quite connect the dots, but soon he’s in need of rescuing. His attempts to get away from a crowd that sounds louder and louder than before (did he drink last night? ...is he hungover on carrot wine?), he bumps into one person, and then another. Eventually, he can’t take it. And while he looks flustered, ears flicking in the direction of every sound and almost tripping every few seconds because of his disorientation, he’ll eventually reach a boiling point if no one rescues him.]
Stop talking! You’re all being too loud!
[By then, he’s attracting so many stares and so much judgment that his face is completely red. Is he making a fist? Yeah, he is. Someone better step in quick.]
ii. somewhere nearby or in the clinic
[So, he’s not going to work today. The smells there are just as bad as the noises in the market, it just took his nose longer to catch up with him. He finds someone to cover for him, if only barely, but with how his body is apparently acting up he can’t stomach to be around the scent of potions and herbs and the surgery room. The clinic and the kitchen he works in are both out of the question, then, as is actually asking Lysa for assistance. Clearly, this is a problem he can handle himself.
Or not.
He can be found seated in a park in the Nobles District looking extremely exhausted and unhappy. Seated at a bench, he’s hunched forward, hand resting on his forehead. The kids who would be playing near the bench while their mothers gossiped nearby are instead staring at him from behind a statue like he’s radiating the most unwelcoming aura they’ve seen in their young lives. He’s already snapped at them once, and he can hear both groups of people talking.
When he hears footsteps getting closer to him, he doesn’t even look up. He knows he looks like a sweaty mess.]
Just keep walking. This entire bench is taken, alright?
[And then he does the most unflattering thing ever: he lifts his hand to his mouth and gags. Yet another pleasant scent hitting his nostrils. Maybe someone about twenty yards away is eating a pungent sandwich. Or maybe a cat pooped. Either way, it’s not a scent he can block out, not without getting used to his new powers.]
D-don’t just stare at me. I told you, keep—ugh—walking.
sullenstallion) & you! Open to all. What: Dylas has brand new superpowers! Unfortunately, he did not ask for them, and he does not know how to use them. Life ensues.
When: Early September
Where: Around Olympia
Warning(s): Rated H for Horse.
i. the market district
[That morning, when Dylas woke up, he felt different. His head felt a bit cloudier than usual—like he was interrupted in the middle of a deep dream. It’s that level of grogginess that makes everything seem brighter, louder, a little more repulsive. It’s not unusual for him to wake up in a grumpy mood, so he brushes it off and goes about getting ready for his day. Up first is getting something to eat, so he decides to head to the market in an attempt to wake himself up before his shift at the clinic begins.
It’s while he’s there that everything takes a turn for the worse. Being around so many people kicks what he doesn’t realize are his new senses into overdrive. One moment, he’s inspecting a fruit that looks like a bunch of grapes but with tiny apples instead, and the next his ears are swiveling in every direction, picking up every sound around him. His tail sets to lashing as he turns around to snap at a man complaining about his commute, only to yell ‘shut up!’ at absolutely no one; the sound came from much further away.
He doesn’t quite connect the dots, but soon he’s in need of rescuing. His attempts to get away from a crowd that sounds louder and louder than before (did he drink last night? ...is he hungover on carrot wine?), he bumps into one person, and then another. Eventually, he can’t take it. And while he looks flustered, ears flicking in the direction of every sound and almost tripping every few seconds because of his disorientation, he’ll eventually reach a boiling point if no one rescues him.]
Stop talking! You’re all being too loud!
[By then, he’s attracting so many stares and so much judgment that his face is completely red. Is he making a fist? Yeah, he is. Someone better step in quick.]
ii. somewhere nearby or in the clinic
[So, he’s not going to work today. The smells there are just as bad as the noises in the market, it just took his nose longer to catch up with him. He finds someone to cover for him, if only barely, but with how his body is apparently acting up he can’t stomach to be around the scent of potions and herbs and the surgery room. The clinic and the kitchen he works in are both out of the question, then, as is actually asking Lysa for assistance. Clearly, this is a problem he can handle himself.
Or not.
He can be found seated in a park in the Nobles District looking extremely exhausted and unhappy. Seated at a bench, he’s hunched forward, hand resting on his forehead. The kids who would be playing near the bench while their mothers gossiped nearby are instead staring at him from behind a statue like he’s radiating the most unwelcoming aura they’ve seen in their young lives. He’s already snapped at them once, and he can hear both groups of people talking.
When he hears footsteps getting closer to him, he doesn’t even look up. He knows he looks like a sweaty mess.]
Just keep walking. This entire bench is taken, alright?
[And then he does the most unflattering thing ever: he lifts his hand to his mouth and gags. Yet another pleasant scent hitting his nostrils. Maybe someone about twenty yards away is eating a pungent sandwich. Or maybe a cat pooped. Either way, it’s not a scent he can block out, not without getting used to his new powers.]
D-don’t just stare at me. I told you, keep—ugh—walking.
thank you
Maybe this is what an anxiety attack looks like?
He could relent with the It's Like You Have Two Heads look, barring the fact that he doesn't realize he's regarding Dylas like a crazy person.]
Maybe you should...sit down?
[His advice is always equal to If Your Stomach Hurts Just Stop Eating Gross Food. Profoundly useless most of the time, unprofitable 100% of the time.]
anything for you, friend
Where is he going to sit down, though?
He looks at Keith. He doesn't exactly look helpful or friendly (he looks kind of plain, actually). Maybe he can use him.]
Y-yeah. Alright. Find me a place to sit down.
[Come on, cop, do the right thing.]
;) anything?
Okay.
[Sure. There should be benches and whatnot just along the market's perimeter. With any luck, there'll be at least one vacant sort. He'll even be a Polite Boy Cop and offer a hand to guide him along, scant of complaint...despite this totally throwing his grocery excursion off course.]
...You haven't been drinking, have you?
[Worth asking, just to eliminate super obvious bs.]
just name it, my sweet t-rex
But then there's the question. For some reason his grip becomes harder after being accused of drinking...probably because he doesn't like that question, actually.]
What? It's...it's not even 9AM. What are you trying to say?
i thought i lost this reply but it was open the entire time, for hours
[The pressure isn't unnoticed; maybe he just remembered that he'd been drinking and wants to stabilize himself? Dylas earns a wary look, but the enforced handholding sesh isn't returned. He's still being so nice, and gentle, what is wrong, you horse.
In his defense, Keith's seen a lot of shit on his patrols. 9AM drinking would be the least offensive thing he'd run into today.
The first empty bench? It's theirs. It's not as far from the market as he'd anticipated. He won't be sitting, but urging Dylas to do just that.]
Have you eaten anything weird? [Similar to his initial question, but maybe this isn't his fault at all. He can't think of anything more to ask about; at the end of the day, this guy probably just has psychosis.]
you're worth the wait 💋
[In his drunken stupor (you know, the one he isn't having), he takes a seat on the bench and also sort of forgets to let go of Keith's hand. It's a little quieter now. That's good. He's more focused on that. He can worry about how he forgot that he doesn't like touching people later.]
Nope. And keep your voice down. My ears are...they're more sensitive today. It's like I could hear everything back there. Every step. Every voice. Everything.
[His ears flick down. What a pain in the ass. He doesn't realize he's developing superpowers that seem more like he's just a furry.]
💋💋💋
Just forget it.
[See? He's not really fixed on the idea that Dylas might be drunk as much as he's just insane. Which, of course, also becomes an unlikely factor once he's seated and actually able to articulate. Moreover, Dylas is doubly lucky that Keith's familiar with seeing Alternate Creatures and the fact that he's donning weird animal ears is one of the least-strange alien attributes he's ever seen.]
Sooo....
[Yep they're still holding hands.]
Are you sick?
[Should be the opposite if he's sick, but alien sicknesses are probably different.]
🤰
[Is he a horse or an ass? Maybe he's both.
His ears are always moving. Even moreso now, maybe. Dylas looks down each side of the alley they've decided to have a romantic getaway in, but he looks back up at Keith when he speaks up again, his ears turning to the voice first.]
Huh? No! I'm not sick, I just told you. My ears are freaking out. Can't you tell?
[Wait. Dylas yanks his hand away abruptly.]
How long were you going to hold my hand for?!
is that a pregnant woman
But, yes. He can sort of tell, because his ears are moving like TV antenna in the breeze. Maybe he's got an infection? Build up of yeast? Maybe ear mites? Maybe they need to be removed.]
Yeah, but I don't know what that means.
[Imagine two people yelling into eachother's face, while one of the two people are on fire. Nothing's getting fixed because they're just characters from The Sims and someone just removed the ladder to the pool.]
--I wasn't holding your hand! I was helping you-!
[God, don't accuse him of being weird like that. Who is he, Lance?]
Look, maybe we should just plug your ears or find you some ear muffs for now?
[QUICK THINKIN UNDER PRESSURE. Super glue the shark bite until a real doctor can figure this shit out.]
yes.......(blushes)
[His mouth hangs open as he ponders that. Continuing with the Sims analogy, that would feel like, to him, starving to death, cooking a meal in an oven, and then having that oven be deleted mysteriously a moment later. It doesn't solve any of his problems.
But his mouth hangs open anyways. It's a small miracle a bug doesn't land in there. Knowing this place, it's an even bigger miracle that a bug hasn't flown into his mouth and attempted to hump his tongue full of eggs.]
That's stupid. I'd look ridiculous in earmuffs.
[And after all that thinking, he ends up scoffing. Spitting in that idea. Nice try, Keith, you can't make him look stupid!!!]
heck....
[That analogy is a nightmare. Even worse is Dylas's response to a completely sound solution. Maybe cotton balls would be better? Either way, he's got an impatient look about him, like a mother whos kid won't gtfo the gumball machine.]
Do you have a better idea?
[A scarf would work too. Honestly, whatever comes up first..........]
;)
[He scoffs. He doesn't have a better idea, so it's time to completely bullshit one. He stares right at Keith like a cat who about to knock something over despite repeated warnings not to.]
I'll just ignore it until it goes away.
no subject
What if your eardrums burst?
[He doesn't need to see that.]
no subject
[His ears flick a few times as he ponders this possibility. His eardrums? He has to google whether or not horse ears have eardrums. It turns out, they do. And that doesn't sound great.]
It sounds fake. Bodies don't usually explode anywhere.
[Thankfully for Keith, Dylas' accusations sound more inquisitive than accusatory. He's willing to be corrected.]
no subject
[Ordinarily. He doesn't know what Dylas is, exactly, but he's sure it's a possible thing. Ears mostly function the same way...]
You're thinking of the wrong kind of explosion. This is like -- your liver can rupture, right?
[He doesn't...know much about how that happens or what it'd technically look like, but it sounds like a comparable thing.]
no subject
[Rupture? Like to spring a leak? Like a pipe? That sounds ominous. Dylas looks down at his liver. What if it's leaking right now?]
Are you sure? How can you tell if your liver is about to burst? Do you have a leaky liver or something?
[He really doesn't know. He's from a town where healing means rest and potions?]
no subject
I...think you have to be old?
[Not true. The big positive here is that he's implying that Dylas is a young, healthy looking gent. Minus his ear infection...or whatever.]
I wouldn't worry about that right now. It's your ears that are bothering you. Does it hurt when you touch them?
[He's having trouble trying to understand that his ears are just giant amplifiers.]
no subject
[He has two questions for Keith. Are you still old if you spent 700+ years as a unicorn monster sacrifice? Did his age start over when he was turned back? Of course, instead of voicing those impossible questions, he just focuses on them himself.
He looks a little freaked out now.]
How long do I have until my ears explode?!
no subject
[A-age is just a number. Unicorns probably don't have to worry about exploding spleens...or kidneys, or...maybe they do? He's yet to meet any unicorns on any planet thus far. He don't know shit.]
I -- they might not? [To refrain from sounding like a broken record.] I just...think it'd be best if we covered them up for now.
no subject
[He looks pretty good for his age. This is the second time in a month he's had to pause and ponder his own mortality. Thanks, alien planet.]
Yeah. Alright. Let's do that before it's too late.
[He's on his feet again. It's time for hat quest to begin?]
no subject
[That's -- huh. Okay. He's obviously not human, so maybe he should've assumed.]
Are you sure you wanna come?
[Not that he isn't thrilled about Dylas' sudden compliance, but it may just turn into a giant unnecessary headache.]
Bringing something back here for you isn't a big deal.
no subject
[And he's obviously lying now. It would be a lot easier to get help if he didn't keep making a fool of himself.]
Yeah. Forget it. You go. I'll pay you back for whatever you get me. Just hurry, alright?
[Spoilers, Dylas will wander off if Keith leaves. Hopefully he holds onto the receipt?]
no subject
Fine, just stay put.
[He's not really worried about costs or anything; maybe it's an innate desire to to do good that fuels him...but anyway...he's leaving...why is Dylas such a piece of shit.]