#calsipher rp

Calsipher was never a particularly social person, and being within a town for so long was exhausting... The longer he stayed there the more tired he seemed to become. Sure, he knew people there, but what really was he doing?

His purpose was to hunt and the only hunt that can be done within the Villa is of the realtors, and any time one was taken care of one just popped up in its place. There's no point hunting something that you can't truly kill...

The thought rattles itself around in his mind, bringing up images of his father. Noctol was a creature that he didn't know how to handle... The last memories Calsipher had of him were hundreds of years ago, and they were none too clear or good.

His other parent hadn't wanted to care for him, and Noctol wasn't much of a parent either; even if he'd taken care of Cal until he ran away into the woods the monster of a man clearly didn't know or want to care for a child.

A monster. That's all he really was, isn't it?

And Calsipher was also that monster. Lessened by the troll blood running through his veins, sure, but he was still a monster. A horrible, freakish joke of nature doomed to be not quite troll and not quite.... Whatever it was that Noctol is, anyhow.

Silently he drops from the branch that had been his seat, branches whipping past his skin and leaving barely noticeable cuts on his way down. Like the sting of the small lacerations the sting of not quite fitting in really anywhere rises to the front of his mind.

Rhyian accepted him. Maybe. He couldn't be sure really. They hadn't said anything about the strange hybrid form he could take on that had been used to hunt down Actias, but he saw the way Oldior had looked at him.

It was pity.

It was an emotion that he hadn't seen in a long time. The last time someone had looked upon him with pity was when he'd told Noctol he was leaving.

As quiet as Calsipher usually was when walking his emotions bled out into his motion, the heavy thudding footsteps and horrid gritting noise of his teeth were liable to scare just about anything away when he finally comes to a stop in front of the water he'd scoped out when he first arrived in town.

Indoor plumbing was wonderful, but it didn't quite work as well. Heavy hands remove what few clothing items he wore before he slides into the creek. Air hisses past his teeth as the frigid water stings the flesh that had been split by his descent. Settling on a position is harder than usual; no longer used to sitting on the rocky outcroppings with how often he'd been inside, and let alone any pressure on one of the cuts would only made them hurt worse.

He'd have to leave the Villa eventually... Even if he didn't want to, he'd have to find somewhere else.

Something like him isn't meant to stay anywhere for too long. Eventually someone would figure out he didn't belong, and he'd rather leave on his own terms than be chased out by someone else. Rhyian's face appears in his mind, bringing the thought that maybe they'd be the one to shun him out of their home.

Lifting a hand he presses it flat against his chest, gripping at the flesh with his nails. He shouldn't be hurting thinking of that.