Reeve

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The clan calls him Reeve-- though it's possible the whirring sound he's making might not be a name at all-- but you're not sure what to make of that (especially since he doesn't even use traditional runes to spell his name).


His eyes aren't eyes, really. They glow, like gateways or lost stars. His movement is more graceful than it should be, and his scales are too smooth, too seamless; an eerie aura pulsates to a heartbeat that isn't draconian. His joints whir a bit as they rotate-- strangely enough, part of him seems to be metal, as if he's some sort of cyborg.


«GREETINGS.»


Are you hearing the voice aloud or in your mind? It weaves in and out of existence, though somehow you're able to piece the sounds together coherently.


«I AM R_E_V. I COLLECT DATA ON SX-42 AND PERFORM NORMAL CLAN FUNCTIONS ON A DIURNAL BASIS. THERE IS NOTHING ELSE TO SEE HERE. MOVE ALONG.»


You're still curious, but you feel compelled to move on anyway.


. . .


Why did you come here, again?

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