harin the common kalu kumaraya

[harinscourge]

once a simple naga, at the young age of twenty-six, harin was murdered discreetly by a rival guild. five years after his death, life plunges back into him but a mistake in the resurrection process tainted his being, bringing him back as a demon of desire and many of his memories were lost. with the help of the one who returned him to life, perhaps he can unearth the missing memories surrounding his own death or perhaps the new carnal urges instilled within his new being will take over everything else.

       𝓼 𝓽 𝓪 𝓽 𝓼 …

name: harin scourge aliases: scourge prince, gilded serpant, carcass of the druxy rake, the common kalu kumaraya age: 26 gender: male pronouns: he/him species: naga incubus face claim: josh heuston

height: 5'11" hair color: dark brown eye color: green weaknesses: radiant/holy magic, vulnerable to mind altering magic, intense urge to feed on sexual energy, inability to heal on his own strengths: anti-aging, passive charm (it does not addle the mind but just makes him appear to be more physically attractive to others), venomous bite (can cause muscular paralysis) physical appearance: in his naga form, his lower body adopts the features of a snake with black scales and white stripes, similar in appearance to the 'common krait'.

     𝓫 𝓲 𝓸  …

(torture tw, self harm tw, murder tw, apparent suicide tw)

With the identity of his birth father unknown, Harin was born as a shape-shifting naga and raised solely by his mother. He was an active young boy with a gentle temperament and sweet features. Even as a child, the inherited nature of his mother manifested in him with an easy ability to get what he wanted from others. Doting elderly folk who found him endearing would often fill his pockets with candies and a wink to keep these treats a secret and he would smile, graciously accepting the spoils of his sweetness.

He had an affinity for archery and often enjoyed simple past times such as playing the lyre, painting, fishing and catching various small creatures for fun. Being raised in such close proximity to his mother and the guild resulted in him learning much of its inner workings, perhaps at the disapproval of his mother, but this was a secret he kept to himself. All his observations of the guild and its actions reserved to his own private thoughts. Harin had no real ambition of his own. His life with his mother was comfortable and lacked in nothing. He was free to pursue his own idle preferences and hobbies.

But it was not without its perils. For his mother's guild has many enemies.

A rival guild, trying to usurp power, kidnapped him and tortured him in an attempt to get information out of him they could use to take over the Scourge Guild. They beat him. Harin said nothing. They cast spells to try and unlock his mind but he locked them out, bit his own tongue and muffled his own inner voice to prevent them from accessing the secrets he's always kept within him.

His captors grew more and more frustrated. They had not expected him to be so resilient. They had anticipated being raised as the precious gilded 'prince' of the guild that he would have been easy to break.

Goaded by his complete and utter defiance to give in, they felt forced to increase their efforts and in doing so, accidentally killed him. This was not part of the plan. In order to avoid detection, they healed his corpse and with a blade and two strategically placed cuts to his corpse, manufactured a successful attempt against his own life. They planted his body and returned to hiding, hoping their involvement would not be discovered to avoid incurring the wrath of the Scourge guild and returned to the shadows where they could continue to plot their next plan.

Years after his death, Harin awoke screaming, body reflexively fighting for his life without knowing why, the memories slipping away from him like oil and as he clutched at his body, still bearing the final scars on his arms of a self-inflicted nature that were not made by his own hand. He could not understand why he would have taken his own life. He could not remember anything beyond that his final moments were filled with hate and pain and a new feeling, deep and resonant.

During the course of his resurrection, something else dark and desirous manifested within his newly revived soul, leaked into the magic that returned him to life, morphing him into a demon of desire.

[moranalaice]

Whatever version of a heart existed inside her felt as though it began to pump electrified warmth through her veins, caressing her muscles like crackling happiness fired through her and she couldn't prevent the broad smile that pulled into her cheeks, leaving deep lines around the edges of her mouth, nor the way her body seemed to rise into him, positioning herself as close as possible. All of her wanted more, and it felt like she was actively having to fight the compulsions of whatever was inside her to not sit herself on him and kiss him. She'd gotten better over the years at controlling whatever emotion reactions seemed to trigger in her since her death, some harder than others, but she had practiced mentally for Harin, so she might not do anything that could hurt his recovery. That didn't made it hard, her fingers playing with her hair and her dress so they did not play with him.

"I like you too, Harin," she answered, tip of her tongue quivering to say more, sitting behind her teeth and vibrating against the enamel.

She could still feel this vibration as he answered her again. It didn't make whatever emotion had shot through her go away, flecks of lightning feeling like they were on the tips of her fingers that wished to touch him rather than the blue fabric they played with instead, but it did give her something else to focus herself on so that the feeling might fall away.

"You do," she agreed of his assertion that he liked to learn. "It is why I knew I could bring you back, we're the same." The notion unfortunately was not as much of a distraction, however, as it was a lightning rod, keeping the emotion sizzling in her muscles. "We shall practice," Morana assured him, her twitching hand that had been toying with her skirt finally touching his arm. One touch. It was fine, her fingers trembling on muscles she had moved while deceased and felt as though the whole universe had swayed to allow her things.

"We shall practice moving away from illeism," she informed him. Harin had been doing this since he had risen, and when Morana had taken to some books regarding the notion of why, it seemed it could be to do with him needing to ground himself in his form - that or narcissism but she doubted it was this. For him to practice refering to himself as 'I' or 'me,' for this reason would need to retain an element of grounding. "Repeat after me," she instructed, her fingers absentmindedly caressing him as she spoke keeping her lips visible and her words slow, a harder task now that it felt olike there was lightning on her tongue. "'I,'" she paused, and would continue to do so between each word, "am Harin, I like Morana.'"

[harinscourge]

Harin does not know what that word is, but if Morana says he should move away from it then he will. He just doesn't know how to do that and so ends up actually shifting in the bed as if moving his legs will move him away from that word. Not realizing it is not a thing he can physically remove himself from. He doesn't move far, only turns his body, legs crossing in front of him, still looking at her ready to learn and absorb whatever she tells him next. So when she says to repeat after her, he does it. Readily.

"I .. am .. Harin. I .. like .. Morana."

He says it again, less of a pause between each word, and again until it flows smoothly from his lips and then once he has felt he has mastered this phrasing, asks, "I is Harin? Harin is I?" Harin reaches a hand up to lightly touch at the corner of his eyes, he understands enough that the two are different, eye and I, but he still touches the corner of his eye to remind himself of this.

[moranalaice]

There's quiet for a moment. She's spoken too quickly and keeps forgetting to pace herself. There was no one for her to talk to when sense started to return, no one but herself, watching her own mouth in dusty mirrors make vowels that sounded better in her mind than they did passing her lips. It took her longer, much longer, weeks to utter a word, months to make a full sentences. So she stays quiet, waiting for him.

'Stay.'

He's exhausted. One word is better than the first day but he's said more before. It worries her, Morana's eyes scanning him for signs of decay, trying to be subtle as large brown eyes wander but she's not half so soft with it as she imagines she is. Her only saving grace is that maybe he is too focused on himself to see her observing him. No decay. Not any that is evident at least.

"We will stay," she agrees, her words slower now, taking pauses between her sentences so he could process them, and adjusting the fabric of her dress once more to idle herself closer to him.

She did explain herself when he rose, once she injected him with a potion she had learnt to make to calm the beasts she rose. She'd explained again a few days later, in case he forgot. He had died, she brought him back, but it would take time to relearn everything, she wouldn't let him go home until she was sure he was ready for his family, until then she would take care of him. Morana didn't know if he felt like a prisoner or not but he hadn't tried to run - perhaps only because he couldn't - but she hadn't told him why she'd picked him yet, hard to hide as she seemed to look at him with stars in her eyes, and eventually he would get to see his brother and perhaps Dracoth would tell him.

It was not worth worrying about now. She was more worried he was afraid. That he didn't understand what was happening at all. She had not. Maybe she could have if someone told her, but her mind had been a mess of jumping thoughts then, often it felt as though she was just screaming in her mind, no words or thoughts just wails. She hoped his mind was just not so afraid, that her efforts did bring him some comfort.

Based on how exhausted he seemed comfort was what he needed, so the notion of mathematics was one she decide to forgo, in favour of allowing him some reprieve from the effort of it all. "What would you like?" Morana asked, keeping her sentence short, devoid of suggestions, aware he might only give her one word back.

[harinscourge]

Once more, Harin's response takes time, but after some moments of silence and his mouth moving with no sound producing, he says in his quiet and halting way, "Harin likes Morana," misunderstanding her question and instead of responding on what he would like to do, responds with what he likes in general. There is not much which he knows right now but he knows enough to recognize that she has been kind to him.

One of things Harin remembers is pain. He woke screaming in agony and fear, pain and anger. Since being with her, he hasn't felt that way again. Occasionally still afraid, mostly due to not understanding anything, but she's always been so patient with him. He does not know how to express his gratitude. He does not know it is gratitude he feels. He only knows that he feels it but can not name it.

"Morana teach... Harin... learn. Harin like... learn." He feels like there's something about it, learning things, like he used to be good at it. Sometimes he can feel it in his body, the way his muscles want to move, like they're half a step away from remembering, if only he could remember the final step. There's more there in him just waiting to be rediscovered.

[harinscourge]

location: trail by the woods

with: kalliste ( @kallistetheharpy )

The city is simply too loud. There's too many people, too many sounds. Too many confusing situations and possibilities to get caught up into some sort of trouble so Harin now finds himself closer to the outer edges of the city on a dirt road barely distinguishable. This is the furthest he has ventured away from Morana's estate and to be honest. Harin is lost. He does not remember the way back. He has enough sense to realize this is not the way that will bring him closer to it but he still continues walking this way, away from the city, toward the tree line. There's a slope as he ascends the gentle hill and something in him thinks, perhaps if he gets high enough, then he can somehow spot her estate.

He takes a moment now to look around himself and realizes once again that he's forgotten to keep blinking. His eyes have gone dry. He stands with his eyes shut for a few moments before blinking rapidly to try and lubricate them again. It's not entirely necessary but it feels better after he's done it and just as he's about to start walking again, hears a little chirp. At first, he doesn't think too much of it but the chirp happens again, and again, more insistent than before. Harin has been learning that insistent sounds usually means something and so goes to investigate.

Following the chirps leads him to a thin tree away from the path. As he carefully looks around, he sees a bit of movement at its base and shuffles through the low grass to find a gray puff ball with an orange mouth. The source of the chirping is coming from this thing. Carefully, Harin scoops it up into his palm and brings it up closer. It's chirps have turned into shrieks, terrified of him, this giant of a being who has now picked it up, but Harin is unphased because he does not understand what chirping or shrieking squawks means. He only continues to inspect this thing and says quietly, "Bird," because it looks like one, though it is much smaller than the ones that perch outside the gates of Morana's estate. "Baby," he says more on his observations as his mind churns slowly with comprehension. "Bird baby..."

He hears another chirp, this time from above him and sees a bundle of twigs and leaves within the tree. More bird babies must live there. "Mm..." Harin dips his head and looks at the puff ball in his palm again, "Are you... lost? Lost?" Maybe it isn't. Afterall, he is lost and he isn't squawking but then again, he is also not a bird baby. "Do you... want Morana?" Harin says her name, meaning home when he does.

[harinscourge]

location: just outside Morana's estate

with: @dracothscourge

It's been some time now since Harin's return to life and finally is allowed to roam outside the boundaries of Morana's estate. He hadn't felt confined at all, in part because he simply did not recall what space felt like. Beyond the gates of her estate, the city of Destarin sprawls. He'd heard it countless times, constant noise filtering through the windows and thick walls. Voices of people and mysterious shrieks from creatures. He did not understand them and he did not fear them, it was simply sound, and as it was something he always heard, he had grown accustomed to it. However only hearing it was different from seeing it and hearing it.

He'd gone on walks with Morana before, through quieter side streets and shadowed alleyways when the sunlight was still too much for his eyes to bear. Now he was on his own and following an old man wheeling a cart. The crunching of its wheels into a well trodden dirt path turning into cobblestones an enticing venture for the revived Harin and so he follows. Leaning down from time to time so he can get a better look at the wheels turning. Or peering over the edges of the old man's cart so he can see what he's carrying. It looks like baskets of various vegetables and fruits, overladen so they spill out the tops.

Curiosity is a seedling and once planted will continue to grow until it has a chance to flourish or is uprooted. Harin does not know this is considered stealing when he reaches into the cart for a round looking red fruit. He also does not realize the old man has turned around, curious and wary about the person who has been following him.

"Oy!" The old man's gruff voice cuts through sharply, deep and croaking, "Put that back!"

Harin does not realize he is being addressed so he does not respond, nor does he put the fruit back.

The old man hops off his cart and walks like he's stumbling, one leg seems to be much shorter than the other or perhaps the other leg is too long, either way, he walks like he's falling and lands a large hand on Harin's arm much to the young soul's surprise.

"Thief! Put that back or pay for it!"

Harin stares and then he copies the old man's voice, though his tone is far less accusatory and much quieter, "Thief. Put that back or pay for it."

The old man blusters. Spit flying through yellowed teeth. "Mocking me are ya lad?"

Harin only blinks.

"What's da matter wicha? Ya ain't got no sense?" The old man spits at him.

Harin once again, only blinks innocuously.

[moranalaice]

Still Stiff || Harin&Morana

He was so handsome. Morana could have stared at him for weeks. And had been. But he looked better laying in the bed covered in various woven fabrics and mismatched pillows than he did in the liquid she had replicated of her own makers design. The blue ooze had hidden away the warmth of his skin, and had hidden the curls that surrounded his elegant sort of face. It had been necessary though, to perserve all of his beauty. A beauty she was begining to worry would start to evidently decay because he still wasn't hung

Harin did not seem hungry for anything she had tried to feed him. It was understandable he hadn't wanted the mush she had initially offered, when his jaw was still tense, but stranger when she'd bought curry from town and he hadn't wanted that. By now she had offered him steak, chicken, just pure blood in case he was vampiric in nature, the night before she had killed a rabbit and presented it to him not a few minutes later and still no hunger rose in him.

Morana wished she could set aside her worries on this but everyone needed something to sustain them. Life wasn't a free bargain, you didn't get to sustain it with nothing. She ate, though in truth it didn't ever taste as good as it once had, sure that the poison that had killed her or maybe the lightning that had resurrected her had fried her taste buds.

"I consulted with the cards," she informed him, leaning her temple against the wooden headboard draped with a warm burgundy tapestry covered in depictions of predatory birds. Though she had made herself comfortable in his presence, more so than maybe was appropriate as he still likely was confused by who she was, she only touched him to help him with his movements and never for her own desires. Even if she wanted to. "They insist that your lack of appetite shouldn't last much longer, which means I find something soon," she said, as though such information would be of comfort to the still healing man.

"Until I work it out though we should keep practicing other things," she persevered in her intentions. No one had helped her reform herself, but he had her and she was not going to allow him to return home potentially capable of hurting his mother, or, worse, unable to speak to her. It had already seemed to overwhelming watching him trying to communicate in the first few days and observing him being incapable. She remembered that frustration, how it had almost felt like her mouth was numb and her jaws wired in place, she had wanted to cry but only seemed to wail.

Hands shifting the material of her bright blue dress as her knee folded over the other, whole body poised towards him, dirt at the base of the hem and chemical stains around the wrists from her work she continued to offer him the warmest of her smiles. "We could try walking outside to the caravans while we practice enunciating our words? Or if you are feeling worn and wish to stay in bed we could practice numbers again?" It was always 'we' when it came to his recovery never 'you.' It was never all on him.

@harinscourge

[harinscourge]

Harin breathes and even this takes effort, reminding himself to do it every once in a while when it feels like it’s been too long since he’s taken a breath and an ache in his chest reminds him. Nothing is autonomous anymore. Not even blinking. He could stare endlessly for hours and not remember to blink until he realizes how dry his eyes are. After being a corpse for so long, this body barely remembers how to live.

When Harin first woke, his mouth would not move properly. His limbs were heavy. Nothing behaved the way it was meant to, the way it used to, his thoughts didn’t align with the muscles in his body and so every action was an exaggeration of what he wanted it to be. Even thoughts failed him when he first woke. It was such a strange sensation to be a large, living, physical being capable of cognitive thoughts. So when she poses a question to him, he can not answer. Not yet. It takes time for his ears to process the words she speaks, it takes time for his brain to make sense of them, it takes time for his brain to formulate a response, it takes time to twitch his muscles in his face to make his mouth move, it takes time for the vibrations in his throat to react. When he speaks, it is sluggish and halting but the sound is firm enough. Clear and solid. “Stay,” a single word, but this is an achievement all the same.

There’s something he needs but he can’t vocalize it. It feels familiar and foreign at the same time, like a language he once knew and can no longer remember and only catches fragments of it from time to time, the sound of a vowel, the taste of a consonant. There, resting on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be rediscovered. Only no matter how much he tries to make sense of it, nothing comes up. He’s tried so many times now, mouthing at nothing, vocal chords vibrating with the sensation of sound trying to escape, like if he sounds it out the rest might fill in naturally but he only ends up harmonizing with himself in frustration.

[joenateuser]

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