Sylar hasn't eaten anything, ordered by himself or not, since walking into Milliways a few days ago and finding it teeming with animals that didn't (tICk) quite sound like (ttticK) animals
( Read more... )
New and extremely bizarre senses? Ray's had to deal with those before! He's just heading back towards the Bar after dealing with things with Captain Ryan when he spots something moving on one of the chairs, and stops.
"Okay," he says after a bit. "I don't think I've ever seen one of your species here before except for the one with the typewriter. I'm going to take a chance here and-" He shifts into deliberately using the amulet. "Attempt communication in your native language. Can you understand me?"
Cockroaches can't hear, per se. They sense vibrations -- in the ground, the air -- and react accordingly.
There are a lot of those, and a lot of movements across his line of sight. Sylar's beginning to notice that when objects stop moving, it's more difficult to see them; cautiously, he's just beginning to edge down the back of the chair when he hears -- actually hears, as clearly as if he were human -- a voice.
He pauses. After a moment, the twitching of his antennae picks up as he tries to approximate a nod.
Ray smiles a little and pulls up a chair. "You seem to have been affected by the same problem that a lot of people in the Bar have been having," he says. "Unless, of course, you were hatched a cockroach."
It's another big shape in a sea of big shapes, shaking the floor directly under him. Sylar dashes across the top of the chair back as the instinct to run takes over, then forcibly stops, testing the wood with a few strangely delicate motions of one leg.
Slower, he begins to crawl down the chair, edging closer to the shape.
Whether or not Sylar gets too far away is entirely up to Sylar himself, however, Salazar does decide, at some point, to slither to the ground (now that he has worked out how to cling to things).
He hits the floor at the same time Salazar reaches it. There's another quick pause as he lowers his antennae to touch the ground -- it's easier to "see," that way -- and, when he feels the strange susurrus of vibrations that almost sounds like something being dragged, he takes off toward another table.
Allie had walked back in during the evening, to return to Bar her books on Russian warfare, when was distracted from walking back to her room by the sense of that man.
Distinctly not looking like 'that man'.
Cue nine year old, big blue eyed, interested look at a creature type she'd never paid much attention to before.
With the cockroach's panic at being exposed to so much movement and light mounting, Sylar's only able to stay atop the chair for another handful of seconds before darting down its back, angling for the floor.
More accurately, the space underneath the table, where he's less likely to be trampled.
Allie felt sorry for him, for the panic that seemed to unlined everything about him now. It was so very different. She moved back of reaction, as cockroaches were icky, but she crouched down so she could still see him.
Sylar's antennae still, then twitch upward. It almost gives the impression of him looking up.
Voices have a peculiar frequency of vibration all their own. It isn't hearing, but he's beginning to figure out a rudimentary way of understanding them.
Comments 94
"Okay," he says after a bit. "I don't think I've ever seen one of your species here before except for the one with the typewriter. I'm going to take a chance here and-" He shifts into deliberately using the amulet. "Attempt communication in your native language. Can you understand me?"
Reply
There are a lot of those, and a lot of movements across his line of sight. Sylar's beginning to notice that when objects stop moving, it's more difficult to see them; cautiously, he's just beginning to edge down the back of the chair when he hears -- actually hears, as clearly as if he were human -- a voice.
He pauses. After a moment, the twitching of his antennae picks up as he tries to approximate a nod.
Reply
Reply
Conveying a "no" with the particular brand of vehement anger Sylar would normally be placing behind the word, however, is much trickier.
His wings snap open and resettle, fluttering in agitation, as he shakes the front third of his body back and forth.
Reply
(ooc: *hands Sylar a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis and hands you an internet for ultimate WIN*)
Reply
*and solemnly* Sometimes, there is only so much you can do to resist.]
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
It's another big shape in a sea of big shapes, shaking the floor directly under him. Sylar dashes across the top of the chair back as the instinct to run takes over, then forcibly stops, testing the wood with a few strangely delicate motions of one leg.
Slower, he begins to crawl down the chair, edging closer to the shape.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"You."
Reply
Reply
It's enough to make him jump and skitter forward down the chair at top speed.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Distinctly not looking like 'that man'.
Cue nine year old, big blue eyed, interested look at a creature type she'd never paid much attention to before.
Reply
More accurately, the space underneath the table, where he's less likely to be trampled.
Reply
"You don't look so good."
It was an obvious thing, but a true one.
Reply
Voices have a peculiar frequency of vibration all their own. It isn't hearing, but he's beginning to figure out a rudimentary way of understanding them.
Or parts of them, at least.
He edges back a step.
Reply
Leave a comment