He hadn't been awake for long... and in all honesty, maybe he still wasn't quite focused again yet. He'd been dimly aware of another's strong presence... and then it was gone. A pause, briefly, and then another had come, one that, unlike the previous, had made an effort to wake him. Perhaps not specifically him, but the trees surrounding. He'd been aware of movement, of activity, and then a sort of stillness, a settling. Another little pause, and he'd finally gotten up to see what was going on. It had been different, had finally broken through his long dormancy....
After climbing out from the twisted trunks of the trees that had held him, he'd wandered about, taking his time, pausing to try looking around him. The world was still indistinct, however familiar the forest had been... and there had been the... what was the word for it? Cloth? If it was that.... He'd shied away from the odddness of it, rested again among the trees for a beat, and then tried again. How he'd ended up at the edge of this place after was anyone's guess; the tangle of forest seemed to have come with him, giving a very odd contrast to the jumbled cityscape.
This figure was humanoid, at least, with features largely in common with so many other species throughout the galaxies. Pointed ears, a little more obvious than Mallia's, still less obvious than the Vulcanoids'. Eyes that were a solid, inky, alien black all through, though the light reflected on them such that it was possible to tell that they were moving about, trying to take in the strange sight. Skin that was... not quite skin? It was light brown, smooth, shiny even, though not solid in color, the grain of wood playing over those features, as though the face were a mask carved by some skilled hand. Sharp contours, high cheekbones and a softly pointed chin. Rather than hair, the edges of the face had darkened to a near black, and a rather artistic sweep of... twigs? It looked to be twigs that reached back, forming almost a sort of crown behind his head, a few small spots of green peeking in here and there, small leaves budding from some of them. It wasn't clothes he wore, but what looked like full platemail armor, its surface likewise nearly black, smooth, similarly bark-like. A few little nubs peeked up from it here and there, and another leaf or two was trying to bud. It looked grown, rather than carved.... The only part of his appearance that seemed like it might've been something else, perhaps cloth, was the cape that hung behind him, from under his pauldrons.
A plant-person? A dryad-knight, arboreal royalty of some sort? He blinked again, absently putting a hand to the tree beside him to steady himself, the bracer on his left forearm seeming to shift a bit, unfolding another layer to it from just under the first. It looked as though, if he were to slide it out further, it might form some sort of shield... but he wasn't, just yet. And though he had said apparently natural shield, he bore nothing that resembled an offensive weapon. No sword, no dagger, no implements of archery, no polearm... not even a sling.
It was the buildings, in all likelihood. Something about them was unsettling to him, and he wasn't certain if he ought to step any closer, practically radiating uncertainty and wariness as he stood there, caught between investigating and retreating....
But he'd been retreated. He'd been retreated for so long, he'd nearly forgotten how to move forward again. He took a deep breath, and another half step into the more artificial-looking place, tense, not yet letting go of the tree....
Chell here is so very, very confused...
After climbing out from the twisted trunks of the trees that had held him, he'd wandered about, taking his time, pausing to try looking around him. The world was still indistinct, however familiar the forest had been... and there had been the... what was the word for it? Cloth? If it was that.... He'd shied away from the odddness of it, rested again among the trees for a beat, and then tried again. How he'd ended up at the edge of this place after was anyone's guess; the tangle of forest seemed to have come with him, giving a very odd contrast to the jumbled cityscape.
This figure was humanoid, at least, with features largely in common with so many other species throughout the galaxies. Pointed ears, a little more obvious than Mallia's, still less obvious than the Vulcanoids'. Eyes that were a solid, inky, alien black all through, though the light reflected on them such that it was possible to tell that they were moving about, trying to take in the strange sight. Skin that was... not quite skin? It was light brown, smooth, shiny even, though not solid in color, the grain of wood playing over those features, as though the face were a mask carved by some skilled hand. Sharp contours, high cheekbones and a softly pointed chin. Rather than hair, the edges of the face had darkened to a near black, and a rather artistic sweep of... twigs? It looked to be twigs that reached back, forming almost a sort of crown behind his head, a few small spots of green peeking in here and there, small leaves budding from some of them. It wasn't clothes he wore, but what looked like full platemail armor, its surface likewise nearly black, smooth, similarly bark-like. A few little nubs peeked up from it here and there, and another leaf or two was trying to bud. It looked grown, rather than carved.... The only part of his appearance that seemed like it might've been something else, perhaps cloth, was the cape that hung behind him, from under his pauldrons.
A plant-person? A dryad-knight, arboreal royalty of some sort? He blinked again, absently putting a hand to the tree beside him to steady himself, the bracer on his left forearm seeming to shift a bit, unfolding another layer to it from just under the first. It looked as though, if he were to slide it out further, it might form some sort of shield... but he wasn't, just yet. And though he had said apparently natural shield, he bore nothing that resembled an offensive weapon. No sword, no dagger, no implements of archery, no polearm... not even a sling.
It was the buildings, in all likelihood. Something about them was unsettling to him, and he wasn't certain if he ought to step any closer, practically radiating uncertainty and wariness as he stood there, caught between investigating and retreating....
But he'd been retreated. He'd been retreated for so long, he'd nearly forgotten how to move forward again. He took a deep breath, and another half step into the more artificial-looking place, tense, not yet letting go of the tree....
Where was this? What was this?