a x 𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓪𝓵 [Killua wakes up much more peacefully than he did when he first was taken from his own world. he opens his eyes, blinking slowly and sleepily, and realizes this isn't the room he fell asleep in. given the information he's gathered since meeting Astoria, Killua isn't startled. however, when he goes to rub some sleep crud out of his eye, he is indeed surprised by the state of his hand—it's... purple, for one thing. and his fingertips become a bit darker towards their tips, in a gradient, topped with long, sharp, black nails.
he sits up suddenly, eyes wide, and inspects both hands frantically, flipping them upside down and palm side up over and over. he rips off his blankets, and notices his cloven feet.]
Ah!! Am I a demon—?!
[he leaps out of bed (with a stumble, because what the fuck are hooves), frantically searching for a mirror—and is momentarily distracted by the weight and suspension of a new limb. he lets out another sound of surprise, and grabs his long tail. it's thick towards the base. curiously, with a series of blinks, Killua wraps his own tail around his wrist. he's kind of surprised by how easy it is to control. he slowly uncoils it, testing the strength of the tail with subtle movements in timing as he does so. he then gives the floor a hard whip, and jumps from the crack of it. it hurts, but it's pretty cool. he smiles a little.
back on track, Killua continues to seach for a mirror. he finds one, by the door, small and slightly high for his height. straightening up as best as he can, as he can't exactly get on the tips of his toes, Killua gasps again, slapping his little claws against his face. he has no pupils, or irises. just prestine, eerie white. he blinks. he can see perfectly well, and he can see his eyeball roll when he tries... there's just no visible indication that he's specifically looking at anything that isn't incredibly subtle.]
Whoa... Cool.
[then someone knocks on the door. Killua, with some unexplainable hesitation (probably he just isn't comfortable in his body, which is his first line of defense), approaches. when the dwarven lady loudly exclaims breakfast is ready, Killua winces, and realizes he's pretty hungry. she tells him, for some reason, to take care in his participation.
when he comes downstairs for the food, the myriad of steely, distrustful gazes illuminate her implication perfectly to Killua. he really must be a demon, because people sure are looking at him like he is, some even shielding their portions. which, what does it matter? it's free.
Killua inperceptively rolls his eyes, and begins to load his plate, but only after he stuffs a small bread roll into his mouth to start. whatever.]
b x 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓫𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭 [by now, Killua has learned he's called a tiefling. he doesn't like the clothes he woke up in, and has spent some time punching and rolling about in whatever private clearings he can find, as well as his room before his departure, trying to get accustomed to his altered form. the general gist of things is perhaps not as alarming as it should be; Killua likes RPGs, and has even been enlisted in a real life one in his own world. so physically participating in something like this doesn't feel unfamiliar—unfortunately, it means that Killua is treating actual people like game NPCs. he might need to realize this is a type of reality. he's aware, just not so actively, yet.
Killua has been peering about the town, talking to random people, who mostly are tight lipped out of disgust or disquietude. but some have talked; their responses are what's made Killua surmise initially that this isn't actually a game. annoyed by the general willful uselessness of the people around him, Killua decides he'll just get to work, maybe. he'd heard something about an adventurer's guild, and he eventually finds its task board.
so he's standing here, curiously scanning all the fliers—those available to his credentials as an interdimensional transplant as far as he can tell, anyway. he holds his chin, tail idly swaying, some folks pointing cold stares at him. maybe you recognize him? after all, aside from the weird limb stuff and weird skin, he has the same general body shape, hair, height and weight!]
c x 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮𝓯? [Killua eventually ducks into a tavern, walking in as silently as he can, he coils his tail around one of his skinny bovine calves. he feels like in taverns, people are usually more lubricated to share information. also more lubricated to attack, but Killua isn't concerned about that. he wonders what it'd be like to kick someone in the face with a hoof!
after some cautious surveying, he's motioned over by someone talking about Rhug... Killua's posture straightens with interest. it makes sense that a tiefling would attract shady business, he supposes. he crosses his arms, smiling, tail lifting.]
Sure. But you gotta convince me that you're good for your end. I realize you're probably approaching me because of my race, but I wonder if you're often in the business of propositioning kids my age if you aren't hoping to take advantage of them.
killua zoldyck | hunter x hunter | tiefling + rogue/fighter cross class
[Killua wakes up much more peacefully than he did when he first was taken from his own world. he opens his eyes, blinking slowly and sleepily, and realizes this isn't the room he fell asleep in. given the information he's gathered since meeting Astoria, Killua isn't startled. however, when he goes to rub some sleep crud out of his eye, he is indeed surprised by the state of his hand—it's... purple, for one thing. and his fingertips become a bit darker towards their tips, in a gradient, topped with long, sharp, black nails.
he sits up suddenly, eyes wide, and inspects both hands frantically, flipping them upside down and palm side up over and over. he rips off his blankets, and notices his cloven feet.]
Ah!! Am I a demon—?!
[he leaps out of bed (with a stumble, because what the fuck are hooves), frantically searching for a mirror—and is momentarily distracted by the weight and suspension of a new limb. he lets out another sound of surprise, and grabs his long tail. it's thick towards the base. curiously, with a series of blinks, Killua wraps his own tail around his wrist. he's kind of surprised by how easy it is to control. he slowly uncoils it, testing the strength of the tail with subtle movements in timing as he does so. he then gives the floor a hard whip, and jumps from the crack of it. it hurts, but it's pretty cool. he smiles a little.
back on track, Killua continues to seach for a mirror. he finds one, by the door, small and slightly high for his height. straightening up as best as he can, as he can't exactly get on the tips of his toes, Killua gasps again, slapping his little claws against his face. he has no pupils, or irises. just prestine, eerie white. he blinks. he can see perfectly well, and he can see his eyeball roll when he tries... there's just no visible indication that he's specifically looking at anything that isn't incredibly subtle.]
Whoa... Cool.
[then someone knocks on the door. Killua, with some unexplainable hesitation (probably he just isn't comfortable in his body, which is his first line of defense), approaches. when the dwarven lady loudly exclaims breakfast is ready, Killua winces, and realizes he's pretty hungry. she tells him, for some reason, to take care in his participation.
when he comes downstairs for the food, the myriad of steely, distrustful gazes illuminate her implication perfectly to Killua. he really must be a demon, because people sure are looking at him like he is, some even shielding their portions. which, what does it matter? it's free.
Killua inperceptively rolls his eyes, and begins to load his plate, but only after he stuffs a small bread roll into his mouth to start. whatever.]
b x 𝓽𝓪𝓼𝓴 𝓫𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭
[by now, Killua has learned he's called a tiefling. he doesn't like the clothes he woke up in, and has spent some time punching and rolling about in whatever private clearings he can find, as well as his room before his departure, trying to get accustomed to his altered form. the general gist of things is perhaps not as alarming as it should be; Killua likes RPGs, and has even been enlisted in a real life one in his own world. so physically participating in something like this doesn't feel unfamiliar—unfortunately, it means that Killua is treating actual people like game NPCs. he might need to realize this is a type of reality. he's aware, just not so actively, yet.
Killua has been peering about the town, talking to random people, who mostly are tight lipped out of disgust or disquietude. but some have talked; their responses are what's made Killua surmise initially that this isn't actually a game. annoyed by the general willful uselessness of the people around him, Killua decides he'll just get to work, maybe. he'd heard something about an adventurer's guild, and he eventually finds its task board.
so he's standing here, curiously scanning all the fliers—those available to his credentials as an interdimensional transplant as far as he can tell, anyway. he holds his chin, tail idly swaying, some folks pointing cold stares at him. maybe you recognize him? after all, aside from the weird limb stuff and weird skin, he has the same general body shape, hair, height and weight!]
c x 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓮𝓯?
[Killua eventually ducks into a tavern, walking in as silently as he can, he coils his tail around one of his skinny bovine calves. he feels like in taverns, people are usually more lubricated to share information. also more lubricated to attack, but Killua isn't concerned about that. he wonders what it'd be like to kick someone in the face with a hoof!
after some cautious surveying, he's motioned over by someone talking about Rhug... Killua's posture straightens with interest. it makes sense that a tiefling would attract shady business, he supposes. he crosses his arms, smiling, tail lifting.]
Sure. But you gotta convince me that you're good for your end. I realize you're probably approaching me because of my race, but I wonder if you're often in the business of propositioning kids my age if you aren't hoping to take advantage of them.