Project 1: [voice] un: hello

[unluckynumberseven]

[The Eluvio definitely made him nervous, bringing back memories of a different highly technological setting, but Emil had already made the decision to keep his weird skull-like head up and carry on. That was all there was to do, right? So even though he was scared, he was not only going to wear the strange clothes they gave him and try his best at his first ever real job, but he was going to... try to talk to new people.

It still felt like a real accomplishment, even if he did feel a lot safer not using the video feed. He just didn't want to scare anyone..]

Hello, everyone! My name is Emil.

[There. A perfectly normal thing to say! He could do this. He was going to ignore his anxieties and be brave like his friends.]

This is really confusing, but... as long as I'm here, I want to help! I can use magic, and I can fight with it, so if anyone needs a helping hand, like in a dangerous situation... I could do that.

[He can feel himself growing more and more self-conscious, so he hurries to wrap it up.]

Oh! And... does anyone know where I could get some gloves? Really small ones?

Comments

[unluckynumberseven]

[He definitely doesn't need to, and Emil gives a little noise of agreement.]

Well... that's okay! The not being human thing, I mean. You can be something else entirely but still be a good person, you know?

[He's not projecting at all, no sir. He meant to ask about the missions, but Reaper touched a bit of a nerve.]

[hellshot]

[Takes one inhuman thing to touch the nerves of another, huh. He lets out a huff of breath, the sound echoing terribly over the communicator.]

Of course. You can be a horrific monstrosity from someone's nightmares and still have a soul, morals, and everything that comes along with having a heart.

[He sounds... particularly bitter, but:]

But that matters little in the face of people who will take one look at you and decide you're a monster. [This isn't accusing, so much as it sounds like Reaper's speaking from experience. Ha, ha.]

[unluckynumberseven]

[Preaching to the choir, my dude. Emil knows that feeling all too well. All of these feelings, actually. He never thought he'd meet anyone who understood so well.]

It's true, but... then there are people who see past that, you know? The people who will look at you and tell you that they support you, no matter what. That's important to remember!

[He pauses, a bit awkward at the end of his enthusiastic little speech, then:]

Can I... see what you look like? It's okay if you don't want to; I'm just kinda curious now!

[hellshot]

[Hah. The kid isn't wrong, there. Even if most people avoided him like the plague or ran from him screaming--there were those select few who appreciated his companionship despite it.

He lets out a low sound, almost like another laugh, a hand brushing down over his mask.]

Gotta' promise me you're not going to scream, kid.

[unluckynumberseven]

I promise! No matter what!

[He still braces himself just a bit. He's read books about things that could drive sane men to frothing madness just by looking at them, and while he's sure his new friend isn't like that at all, it's still good to be ready for anything.]

voice > video 1/2

[hellshot]

[Emil won't be the first person he's taken his mask off for, but he's still wary of doing it every time anyhow. For good reasons, too. A moment is taken as the feed's camera is turned on, and at first, Emil will see a hooded man wearing a skull mask. He might think that's his face at first, but no--

He reaches up to unclasp it, pulling it away from his face.]

2/2

[hellshot]

[Underneath, it's far worse. What he reveals should not, by every meaning of the words, belong on a man who is up and walking around.

The skin is dark, but pallid--like a corpse that had been lying out in the sun for several days. Peeled up and decayed--especially around the cheeks--to expose teeth that should be hidden from sight. Skin tight to his face so much to show the shape of a skull underneath, and a set of pitless red eyes--black like ashes where it should be white.

In every meaning of the word, he looks dead. Dead, and rotting. Black whisps of smoke are rising up from the open parts of his face, like he's burning on the inside.]

A little hard for people to 'look past' what they see sometimes, you know.

[unluckynumberseven]

[Emil does gasp at first in spite of himself. Not from fear so much as that fact that the person in front of him looks seriously, seriously hurt. Is he in trouble? Was he burned? If he needs help, Emil might be able to hurry out to him and try...

But then Reaper speaks and Emil puts more of the picture together. Some sort of... darker magic, maybe. He's way too straightforward and calm to be in as much pain as he appears to be in.]

No, I get it, I really do!

Um... are you really okay? Because, like I said... I have a little bit of healing, if it'd help...

[hellshot]

[A gasp is far better than a scream is, honestly. He waits for the other to speak, before he finds himself smirking a little. Offering help right away... what a strange kid this was.

He shakes his head once, fingers moving up to drag through the bit of scruff on his chin, black particles lifting up from him and floating off, like ashes.]

Nice to offer. Not really necessary.

Not unless your magic is adept at healing what's already dead.
Name's Reaper. You're on board with Death.

[unluckynumberseven]

Oh... nice to meet you!

[Strange and polite. Emil watches his movements, the particles, the black wisps rolling off him. He's seen similar magic before, but nothing quite like this guy.]

I actually can't... reverse death. Not that kind, anyway. I'm sorry.

[hellshot]

[He'd take that mental 'polite' comment back once he gets to know Reaper more, that's for sure. A scoff is what's given in response, a click of too-many visible teeth as he tips his head back.]

Don't apologise for something like that. There's no cure for death. Learnt that fifteen years ago when this was done to me in the first place.

That aside.

If you're capable in battle and can use healing abilities... don't doubt your usefulness here. Been in enough situations to know I'd have died years earlier without that kind of backup.

[unluckynumberseven]

[Emil can't help but feel pleased. He has a place here after all, maybe, and it sounds kind of exciting!]

Yeah! And my friends back home always said my magic was a blessing, so maybe you're right.

[A pause.]

What, um... what happened to you?

[hellshot]

Magic doesn't exist where I come from. [Aside from what the Shimada brothers can do, and he's not even certain that shit can really be called 'magic.']

...As for what happened to me, it's a long story I don't want to get into.

Short version? I died in an explosion and someone stupid tried to bring me back to life.

[And fucking failed at it.]

[unluckynumberseven]

Oh, I see.

[He understands, sort of.]

Well, for what it's worth... I'm glad they did! You've been really nice to talk to.

[hellshot]

... [He almost wants to laugh.]

You'll be one of the very few.

And hold your opinion on how nice I am until you get to know me.

Others on this ship won't agree with you.

[unluckynumberseven]

Hmm. I don't know what their experiences are, but you've been really encouraging, and interesting, and we both understand what it's like to look kind of scary but still be good people, so I'm going to disagree with them.

[SO THERE. Deal with it, Reaper, he likes you.]

[hellshot]

[...What a troublesome brat. He shakes his head, and decides instead of encouraging the kid more into the image he's made for himself here, he'll change the subject.]

We both understand, huh.

Still have no idea how 'scary' you actually are, kid. [Not that he'd be bothered, even if Emil turned out to be a giant insect or something. He's too old for surprises, nowadays.]

[voice -> video]

[unluckynumberseven]

Oh. Right.

[He wasn't putting it off or anything. Except yes he was.]

Well, fair's fair, I guess. Here goes...

[He taps on the screen, turning on the video feed and giving Reaper his first look at something that resembles, but isn't quite, a little skeleton kid. The "skull" is frozen in that rictus grin and as Emil speaks again, only the teeth move.]

Hi, Death. Meet a weapon.

video;

[hellshot]

A 'weapon.' [He repeats that word with idle curiosity, clawed fingers of his gloves tapping against his bottom lip as he examines Emil. Honestly, it's not what he's expecting to see at all--perhaps he'd imagined something like a shadowy monster with lots of teeth...

But instead. Well, perhaps if he were still a normal human himself, he'd find it unnerving.]

...Ha. No wonder you don't want to show your face.

You know. You could always get a mask.

[unluckynumberseven]

Yeah, maybe if I could find one of those big all-over masks, like the people in Façade wear. I don't think that'd draw less attention, though. Or look less weird.

[But he's a bit more relaxed now. Reaper's seen his face, and he didn't have a bad reaction. Other people might be the same.]

[hellshot]

Wrong.

If you design the mask to go with the rest of your outlook, it won't look weird.

Basic rules of design.

[unluckynumberseven]

[He's quiet for just a moment, thinking about that. Design? Matching his outlook? He had no idea Reaper put so much thought into it.]

Is that why you picked the one you did? Like... some sort of... death aesthetic?

[He isn't judging, he just never thought of it that way before. What if he tried a mask too? Something a little cuter? Would it help?]

[hellshot]

[Not something that Reaper often advertises--but putting thought into clothing and costume is pretty much his number one passion after you know. Guns and shooting guns.]

Yes. I designed it myself, along with the rest of my uniform.

It's easy to send a message to people just by having them look at you. Most people just don't put in the effort.

[Or... aren't a fucking designer on the side like certain shitty ghosts are.]

[unluckynumberseven]

Wow... I guess I never really thought about it before! I wore nice clothes when I was human,, but after everything that happened I guess I was worrying about other stuff more.

Did you make the mask yourself?

[hellshot]

Don't blame you for shit like that. Being a 'weapon', figuring you had shit on your mind relating to that. [This is in no way subtle prodding into business that probably wasn't his.]

I did. It's false enamel, not real bone.[As he adjusts it back over his face.]