asgardeventide | one. ▻video

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[The video feed flickers to life, and there is a man with dark hair gazing at the "screen" for all to see. There is something decidedly serpentine about the incline of his head, the way his lips are almost curled into a snarl, exposing a flash of white teeth before he speaks.

The man's voice itself is low, surprisingly so, for such a face; almost as if there is the perpetual rumbling, the sound of gravel, at the back of the throat.]

Zok bein. Even my own tongue does not come to me as it should, as naturally as I breathe. Instead my mind is filled with the muddled words of this foreign language, and my body weak.

[He then scoffs – the dry, humourless kind that could pass as a hiss.]

Who encases me in this prison of flesh, rips my Voice from my throat and takes away my wings? These "gods"? Meyye. I know nothing of these so-called gods.

[Man, he's just a bundle of sunshine, isn't he?]

In defeat, I have done nothing to warrant humiliation.

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It has been my experience that those who would deem themselves gods care very little for the humiliations of mortals.

[He considers the words spoken back to him for a moment, eyeing the image like the alien thing that it is to him. He comes from a fantastical world, certainly, but of a different sort; everything about his situation here is foreign to him.

He would smile at the irony of that if... well if his mood wasn't so terrible right now.] They do not. They have no reason to care for the trials of mortals. [He certainly never did.] But to bring a dovah into their machinations – foolish of them.

[ He's on a rooftop, looking up at the still-grey skies. ]

At ease, warrior. [ Though he speaks quietly, there is authority in his tone. ]

What has been done to you?

[An authoritative tone is a wasted one on this "man"; his moods are often his own, and he has never had to temper them before for anyone's benefit.

He peers at the image, with the slightest tilt of his head.]

Much has been done to me, joor. But you speak of the present. [And so he clarifies:] I am confined and small and finite. This is not my form.

[ If he has his pipe (and pipeweed) in his hand, he would have taken an inhale of it. But since he has not, he only folds his hand, the bracelet still aimed at his face. ]

You are not the first to be changed. I have heard of horses who have been forced into human form.

[There's that scoff again on this end – this time at the implication. Though his form is smaller now, his pride is still as immeasurable as ever.]

Horses? Horses should feel no disgrace upon arriving. They are small and just as fragile as man, so little change is forced upon them.

I am, as they call it in this tongue, dragon. The change is not small, and it is unacceptable.

Edited 2011-12-13 07:34 (UTC)

[ His eyes might flash slightly at the insult towards horses, but he does not pursue that line of thought. Instead- ]

The term is unfamiliar to me.

[ What on Earth is a dragon. ]

[It's not difficult for him to fathom that some here may not know what a dovah is. Even in his world, many believed them to be a myth until recently.

He speaks, and he is proud. (If you've neglected to already notice this detail.)]

We are large and powerful, and our Voices tear the land apart if we so desire. We view the world from above, and not grounded like this. Like I am now.

Well you're a dramatic one. What are you supposed to be?

Perhaps the gods have chosen you to come here, so you might learn to blunt the edges of your pride.

[Well. Even Allen, relatively inexperienced with the supernatural as he is, can tell that this is no ordinary man. The screen is half-covered by a palm, but you may catch a glimpse of his face, eyes closed quietly as he inclines his head.]

If I may ask... Are you a spirit?

[ cheerful. ]

It seems you still have your voice though, doesn't it? Even with all the humiliation.

[ he's...not contesting that part. ]

[You can see the face of a teen with green eyes, dark skin and light purple hair. Unlike the mans' voice, his own is soft and calm.]I lost my wings too sir, and there's something, someone, missing in me that was there before.

Might I ask who or what was you before arriving here?

Defeat...? You were in a fight?

Is that what you are, then?

[ 'dovah.' it's not a word he's heard before, but it's interesting enough to file away for later. the man is evidently uncomfortable in this form, leading fenris to wonder what exactly he's used to. it's intriguing, that's all. the gods had taken from him too, but not on such a scale. ]

This form is inferior to your previous self?

For what reason? My pride is justified as it is.

[The text displays, as it should, but Alduin is less than inclined to use this... keyboard contraption to respond. These fingers are far more complicated than they seem, far more complex in their use than the sharpened edges of his talons that he was used to.

So... you get a blunt voice response, instead. tl;dr typing is hard.]

Dovah. Dragon.

[Alduin nearly squints at the screen, trying to discern the face behind the voice, before he deems it far too much trouble than it's worth.]

A spirit? I am nothing so ethereal. Especially now.

[Alduin's like a bucket of rainbows over here, yup.]

No. [Blunt, too.] It is not the same. The words you hear now are transient and weak -- it is not my [a pause as he actually has to think of the word. He hates how this place has replaced his tongue for something else entirely.] Thu'um. My power is stripped from me, and that is the worst of all the transgressions.

[Alduin's dark hair and eyes that glint with a hint of red are a stark contrast to the man before him, then.]

Dragon. [There's more to it than that, but he hasn't the patience to explain the rest.] I may ask the same of you, joor. You say you once had wings.

[Though you can't see it, you may be able to clearly hear the snarl in his voice.]

Yes. Against warriors of both ancient and new, who try very hard to defy their fate.

[The palm remains across the screen (though he's not doing it on purpose), so yeah, this might as well be voice. Oops.]

Then... some other form of supernatural being.

Yes. Dovah. Dragon. [Plus bonus God of Destruction thrown in there, too, but he honestly does not have the patience to explain any further right now, given that he's just arrived and not very happy.]

Inferior? [He nearly laughs at the simplicity of the word.] Everything about this body is suffocating and... small.

[Alduin doesn't particularly care (as far as he's concerned, he cares for nothing of this "Asgard"), so he responds nonetheless.]

[Albeit a bit to the point] Dragon.

[His eyes widen.]

They... are able to change a form that much? [They're more powerful than he realized, though Allen's never thought of himself as a good judge of power. He is only a human, after all, and no sorcerer besides.]

--I see. Small wonder your frustration, my lord.

[How do you address a dragon? He wouldn't know, but he figures it's better to err on the side of caution.]

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[video] cannot stop laughing at that face NICE ONE ALDUIN

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[video] IT IS THE BEST OF FACES >8|

[video] HEHEHEHEHE /draws on it