pvrcelain

[pvrcelain]

isidoredelgado​:

status: closed for @pvrcelain location: the harbor setting: haunts on the harbor halloween festival event

    Though it couldn’t truly be considered a new event, Munir coming to call Port Vale his home on land, in the grand scale of their lives, five years was but a blip on an endless timeline. Not once in that time has Isidore not been grateful for the close proximity of his fellow kind; so few of them left, and now more than ever, the silent understanding is appreciated. With the whole town in full celebration mode, the storm forgotten for the day as the locals bring out costumes and candy, Isidore was eager to take a break from his work and explore the festivities. 

   This was made better by Munir’s suggestion of enjoying dinner before the wedding, another event that had Isidore’s brow furrowed whenever he thought of it, and something that was boding a sense of dread in his stomach. So, he took off from the tattoo parlor, locking it behind him, clad in all black and his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, headed down to the harbor to meet with the man he saw as a brother to him; always had. There wasn’t a force on Earth that could convince him to wear a costume. “Munir!” Isidore called as he caught sight of him just up ahead, waving a hand to attract his attention before catching up. “You beat me here,” He commented, though it was no surprise; Isi had ran late, as usual. “I’m starving. What about you?”

-

         there had been a time when they'd seemed MORE than of this world — said so by the mermaids who couldn't mimic the way they communicated in less than words. some days munir wonders if it's that same connection that drew them all here to PORT VALE years before the rest of the oceans came out of the waters ( perhaps it's only wishful thinking that they would always be able to find each other — it certainly hasn't been true for so many others ). it will never be the same ; munir knows that with the same certainty he knows that change is not inherently bad. but the loss of their own kind : that is certainly nothing but an evil. he did not come to the surface to relive that fear, though, the opposite, and isidore already in port vale had been a blessing — like in some ways things never change.

         the smile that rises to his face as he spots his brethren among the harbour crowd is easy, his free hand moving in his own responding wave before his other rises his nearly empty cup to his lips ( hot spiced apple cider, though closer to lukewarm now ).     " of course — you have never been on time, "     he scoffs, gentle and fond, pulling isidore into a one-armed hug regardless. you don't know someone for centuries without learning their punctual tendencies, or lack there of, but munir's character hadn't allowed him to be anything but precisely on time. he is patient. he draws back after a moment, hand clapping firmly on his shoulder. his smile hasn't dimmed in the slightest.      " — you were not sidetracked by that pastry cart then ?? "

[pvrcelain]

STARTER FOR: mellora ( @mellora-atoll​ ) EXTRA: the harbour, october 31st

         " here — "     munir offers her a cup of something still hot, a delicious smelling steam curling from the openings in the top of the lid. the introduction of SEASONAL DRINKS into human culture had been an incredibly thrilling discovery for him a couple decades ago — and maybe he even beats the teenage girls to the cafe when the fall drink menu goes live. but pumpkin and cinnamon flavored drinks are more than worth it. the cup is forced into mellora's hands at that before he raises his own drink to his lips for a satisfying delicious sip.     " — mmm, delicious. "

         he takes in mellora's outfit as his cup lowers, gaze hardly coquettish, more highly amused than anything as he takes in the undeniable pirate garb — by modern day halloween costume standards at least. a smile creeps across his face,     " no sea shells ?? no fake fish scale skirt ?? "     though port vale's antics sometimes put him on edge, there's no denying the hilarity of the inaccuracies at the same time. he laughs at that, not unkindly before he moves to take another sip of his drink.

[pvrcelain]

STARTER FOR: stephanie ( @steph-anand​ ) EXTRA: the starbeach cafe, october 31st time tbd

         munir has had years, so many ESCAPADES to the land, to count the differences between the surface world and the one beneath the waves. his home may be to the water, but there are wonders above the surface : none greater than the scents that wander it. there are the pungent ones, but there are others : it was no surprise to him when spices built the world that it did. standing now in the starbeach cafe, the same thought crosses his mind — plenty of things have changed since the silk road, and if any of the traders could see how freely spices flowed these days they may think it a paradise. port vale is not quite a paradise, but it has become a sanctuary for some. ( for munir ?? well, he's still trying to figure that out five years later ). but it's difficult to not be in a fine mood during the festival, and now when he's standing waiting for a hot drink he's become very fond of.

         but it does waver when he spots her among the crowd. munir is not often one to shy away from people, no matter their aura, but there is something different about stephanie, about her utter resilience to what she believes — some of it more accurate than he'd like to see ; he worries that with the threat that lurks beneath the waves, they cannot afford to face one above the waves either. it is unlike him to dwell on the negative, the mere potential of darkness, especially here on land where he learned the resilience of LIGHT ( but it is here too where he first saw the horrors of death by another hand, and this time there is no calm sea to sink back into ). so he watches, maybe too much. he hopes to avoid catching her eyes, for as much as he wants to keep a close watch, talking to her still puts him a little on edge, focuses instead on pulling his phone from his pocket and pretending to poke at it like he'd seen most humans in this time do. it's a poor illusion — he pretends it isn't.

[pvrcelain]

renzieanand​:

Location: the harbour Time:  Haunts on the Harbour festival, daytime Status: open starter~

It was still daytime on Halloween, and Renzie figured this was his chance to pop out of work, mingle with the other Porties.  His Starbeach Café’s re-opening coincided perfectly with Halloween, allowing people on the harbour to wander into the cafe, enjoy food and drinks.  And everything was running so smoothly, Renzie was almost in a daze.

Hoping for the best, expecting the worst..  The town was buzzing - electrified even moreso than previous years.  The Mayor’s wedding.  It stirred up the sleepy little town and Renzie was no exception.  Whether the wedding would be a spectacle or a trainwreck remained to be seen.

For now he just strolled along the harbour, forcing himself to relax and enjoy.  Distracted by someone’s mermaid costume, Renzie wasn’t prepared for a giant mothman leaping from behind a booth and shouting ‘BOO!’.  Renzie startled, colliding into someone else and spilling his hot apple cider.

“Yah!  Dammit, Danzen!” Renzie yelped at the mothman, who scampered off, laughing.  Turning to the other person, Renzie pulled out a napkin to pat at the other person.  “Sorry - I’m so sorry. Danzen’s at it again with his stupid pranks.  Kids, I tell you.  Did I spill anything on you?  Oh - oop, that’s your chestal area.”  Renzie pulled his napkin back. “Sorry.”

         on principle, munir wasn't much for things that built themselves on FEAR — conflictingly, though, he did very much enjoy things that made people happy, which hypocritically the fearful parts ( as well as others, he'd concede ) of halloween seemed to do. if he thought too hard about it, it'd give him a headache so he pushes the contemplation aside as he strolls along the harbour. there's no shortage of things to look at, but as always, munir finds himself looking more toward the residents than anything else — people are often the most fascinating : land or sea, that always holds true. hands tucked into his jacket pockets as always, he weaves through the crowd with a graceful ease in spite of his tall figure ( he has done this too many times, taken a land form too frequently to be uncomfortable with it ).

         the sudden noise doesn't alarm him, but the feeling of someone crashing into him is unexpected. that does draw a small noise of surprise from his lips as he instinctively reaches out to steady them with a firm hand, a familiar voice falling on his ears.     " don't worry about it, "     he says kindly. a reassuring smile is quick to spring to his face, hand retreating from its steadying touch to renzie's shoulder in favor of tugging his jacket straight once again.     " — you mostly got it on the jacket— "     ( faux leather, semi-water repellent. nothing a damp cloth won't fix. in the very least, it smells nice right now )     " — good aim. "     munir doesn't laugh, but there's clear amusement in his voice at that.     " you have the worse end of the bargin, i think — down a cider. shall we go find another ?? "

[pvrcelain]

MUNIR’S WATER FORM + A NOTE ON SENSES

regarding munir’s water form, in shape, his horse-like half resembles a draft horse while his tail resembles that of a thresher shark — build for speed and power when swimming. ( color tbd )

munir is semi-able to sense other seafolk on land, though his abilities are best and most readily used to identify his fellow hippocampi. this is due to matters of physiology, combining the superior sense of smell of a horse and shark meaning he is able to pick out more nuances than humans and even other seafolk like mermaids and sirens. his pervious visits to land have also helped him to identify the scent of humans more strongly. 

that being said, port vale presents a unique challenge for identification by scent due to its proximity to the sea. it is harder for ocean and sea scents to be picked out due to inherent nature and what is due to the marine air. he is still able to identify his fellow hippocampi more easily, but sirens and mermaids are harder to distinguish from the humans in port vale due —as mentioned before— to the proximity to the sea and the fact that sirens and mermaids inherent scents have become more muddled in their two legged forms. the stronger scent of human also still persists in port vale. 

due to the needed sensitivity to keep seafolk a secret and munir's lack of desire to make a mistake in that regard, he often keeps his suspicions to himself. this was especially true when other seafolk began to come to port vale as he was not wholly expecting it — though recently, he may be more cognizant of the scent people he meets have ( especially strangers ) as the likelihood of them being seafolk has increased.

following the logic of having slight horse physiology —and with over 900 years of practice— munir is also able to smell fear and happiness to a degree. this is easier and more accurate with those he knows well. these can also be masked by things like certain lotions, and strong perfumes and cologne.

[pvrcelain]

THE BASICS

NAME: munir riahi AGE: unknown over 900, appearance 36 BIRTHPLACE: unknown GENDER: male ( he + him ) SKELETON: porcelain, the light hippocampus OCCUPATION: artist ( painter ) TIME IN PORT VALE: permanent basis for 5 years, has visited briefly several times since its creation 300 years ago

they call you soft at soul, but you disagree. you see the bright side of things and you want the best for the world; whatever that may be. in the past decades, you have seen much loss, and now understand how quickly life fades. this coming war is a dark cloud over your agenda of peace and love, but you turn a blind eye and wish it away. you won’t let it break your spirit, especially when you see it doing so to the others of your kind. they need you now, more than ever.

a study in : what is lost and what is remembered ; what is seen and what is perceived ; seeing too much and saying too little ( does it haunt you ?? ) ; lights in dark places can flicker but never go out ; what will you do with what you have seen, o hippocampus ?? will it drive you to insanity ??

THE HIGHLIGHTS

          the light hippocampus over nine centuries old who is no stranger to life on land having explored it many times before the mass exodus from the sea ; the horrors he’s seen from wars and terror have shaped him, more importantly seeing how love and hope and light persists even in dark times has shaped him ; an extreme tendency toward pacifism and a sometimes stubborn belief of good in everyone has made him a skilled mediator to diffuse intense situations ( his most high profile accomplishment, a hand in the peace treaty between sirens and mermaids fifty years ago ) ; a painter —a love of art given to him from the humans as well— who puts the beauty he sees onto canvas and paper ; the war has not touched him, or at least that is what everyone sees with his resolute determination to hold onto light and everything good — but the truth is darker than that, even for someone so seemingly radiant : he needs to hold on, lest he lose himself too.

THE STORY

he was not always like this : loving.

he claims the first years, decades, of his life have long been lost to memory — living so many years, things begin to blur together, one wave crashing into the next. but hippocampi are not inclined to forget things ; they can only sometimes wish they could. so he remembers this : the oceans were peaceful and he craved that they were not, if only so they weren’t so dull.

he was not always like this : hopeful.

he craved to be a fighter once, a long long time ago. hippocampi are not vicious creatures : they are build for defensive combat and not offensive attacks for a reason. he is good. he is too good at fighting, too bold, too brazen, to inclined into tempting fate like a riptide.

he was not always like this : light.

time moves slowly in the ocean. decades can slip by, centuries, and things will stay the same. there will be catastrophe above the surface and so little of it will sink below the waves. no matter how vicious the storm is above the sea, if you sink deep enough there remains calm. the first time he stepped foot on land, he was young, seeking an adventure he felt to too peaceful ocean could give him. 

it is 1146. the second crusades are threatening. war is on the horizon and then slips straight over it with an ease that terrifies him. blood spills into the ocean.

it is not as grand or exciting or thrilling as he imagined. it is none of those things at all : just pain and suffering, suffering, suffering...

he returns to the ocean as easily as he slipped out of it, the pain of transformation almost soothing to the pain that lives in his mind. he has witnessed storms, watched ships sink under the fury of the ocean, but there is no compare to WAR — to the destruction it can bring.

there is no war in the ocean ; he hopes that there never will be.

his wish is kept. hippocampi are not ones to embroil in conflict, with each other or with other creatures. he understands now the meaning of that. he is not even a century old yet.

the mermaids come with the breath of the goddess and they are welcomed. the oceans prosper under their rule. there is peace, still.

he returns to the surface, to land again and again and again. sometimes there is pain. there is strife. there is war. but something keeps him coming back, a beauty like sunlight dancing on the underside of waves. there is love. there is hope. there is light.

through it all, it persists and it awes him.

though his own kind are more inclined to spend time above the waves, they do not understand the frequency of his own trips. but he continues, and he continues to see the light, to be that force that calms and restores and washes over all.

he is not old by hippocampi standards, but he has lived longer than any mermaid, watches the rule of the oceans pass from mermaid to mermaid. there are things he has seen and sometimes, he shares what he has seen. he is not an advisor, too free to fleeting to be that, but it is something like this : the calming, reassuring light.

there is no war in the ocean.

but there is conflict.

the sirens come and he does not worry. they’ve shared the oceans with the mermaids ; there is no reason for them to fear these new creatures.

maybe, he was wrong.

there is war in the ocean.

then his own kind began to disappear.

he sticks to a resolutely neutral party, not condoning violence on either side. he mediates for a time, or tries to. sometimes he is successful, other times he tries not to despair as battles break out in spite of his best efforts. long years do not mean great wisdom, or that is what they tell him when he speaks of peace and compromise. the mermaids can be proud ; the sirens can be ruthless. they both can be both.

he has seen this before on the surface, on land : belief in what you’re doing is right is the strongest drug that exists.

still, the hippocampi disappear and there is no blame to lay, not that he seeks to put any down.

the oceans have been rendered near unrecognizable from what they were when he was young, and still, he manages to find pockets that remain the same. it fills him with hope when it seems there should be none.

he does what he can. he protects those who cannot protect themselves. he offers advice, tries to orchestrate things to avoid conflict or at least minimize it. but the oceans are vast and the conflict continues to rage and rage and rage. some days it doesn’t feel like enough — it has to be.

he does not have a side. he helps sirens and mermaids alike. he sides with peace with avoided bloodshed and death. a war over 300 years long means he’s had a lot of contact with a lot of marine life and is in a unique position to see both sides.

the hippocampi are disappearing ; he has not seen one of his own kind in what feels like an eternity. he fears the sirens and mermaids will not stop until one is eradicated forever, or until they eradicate each other.

he knows what neigh extinction feels like, only he could not stop what happened to the hippocampi. there is ending this war. there is only one goal : peace in the oceans once again.

he had tried to mediate, once, at the beginning of this conflict, this war — but things had been different then. loss is never justified, but he could feel it weighing heavily on both sides. and so, he began to whisper, to talk : an IDEA is the most resilient thing...

a mediator, a diplomat... call him whatever you will, but he helped to orchestrate the first talks of a treaty, of peace. he had many hands in many things, many contacts and many connections. even the sirens with their ruthless reputation do not crave war, even the mermaids proud as they are will not put pride before extinction.

it was hardly an overnight affair, but if there is anything he believed in, it was that the ocean could be as peaceful as it once was. they had need been around to see such times ; he helped them to imagine it.

it is 1971 when things are finally put to rest : a treaty, an agreement, and for the first time in a long time, he feels he can breath again.

there is peace in the ocean again, and he is content.

he is tired.

easily, almost too easily some say, he slips back into the routine he lived before the first battles raged across the sea. swimming the sea, walking the land. this was a war longer than any that raged above the surface. he does as he always has because he has to, because to do anything else threatens to worsen the cracks already painted delicately over him : seeing the beauty in things, even the simplest coral or the light on the underside of the waves. he reminds others of the beauty, if only to remind himself as well.

time seems to slow down once again ; the oceans are healing and he wants to believe that as well. but his travels take him to every end of the ocean and he sees it happening again : the darkness that creeps into the waters, the violence, the sinister feeling that follows him further and further into patches of light.

it is happening again.

but not the same way. he does not believe this is another war within the ocean. he does not want to believe that sirens and mermaids would forget the war only fifty years after it concluded...

there is light dancing on the bottom of the waves and he clutches onto that.

with the new darkness rising, the threat of another war so soon after the last, he wonders if this will be the thing that finally breaks him. but even thinking such things cannot happen, so he clutches all the more to what has kept him afloat all these centuries : love, hope, light...

port vale is not a new place for him. it’s ironic perhaps, that unlike the ocean it has changed so little in the past 300 years, oblivious to the war that raged beneath the waves. that is beautiful too, perhaps ; that no matter what, no matter how grand, some things persist none the less.

( love, hope, light : they too always persist ).

it is easier to ignore what is coming when he is above the waves. perhaps he is running this time instead of facing with brilliant light. does a darkness still exist if you close your eyes ?? and so he stays in port vale with his paintings and his beauty and his light. but it is little more than the calm before a storm and somewhere, he knows that too as he sees more and more creatures of the sea are found walking the streets of port vale. now is not the time to let light go out.

he was not always like this —loving, hopeful, light— but he forever wants to be.

MISC

( under co. constantly as i think of more headcanons lmao )

— something he learned from the surface world is the beauty that comes with artistic expression. he has walked the halls of the great museums, met some of the greats, have seen their work go from easel to frame in a sunlit room. this particular expression of beauty caught stuck with him, and it is something that has become a honed skill.it is something that has become incredibly engrained with him the past few decades : the flow and texture of paint curling across a canvas, the unpredictability of watercolor like the OCEAN itself, the simplicity of a few pencil strokes to capture something so grand — ART is something he might have never found if not for the surface world. much of his work unsurprisingly has to do with the ocean and if often from a perspective beneath the waves. there’s is an ethereal feeling about this work, no matter what medium he uses. he has been praised for his technique and unique perspective which he of course finds endlessly amusing.

— he often paints where he has a view of the ocean and can hear the waves ebbing and flowing. port vale gives him plenty of places to paint and munir loves that about it. he lives in a very cramped apartment as close to the ocean he can get cheaply — it honestly makes him feel a little claustrophobic but it’s all he can afford at the moment. therefore, it’s not uncommon to find him outside at all hours of the day, especially near the ocean side. he does not go places without at least his small sketchbook.

— he sells his work to make enough money to live : most times it’s enough, but it’s also not uncommon for munir to pick up odd jobs every now and then to help foot the bill for living expenses. 

— he would never intentionally harm a living creature which lends to him being a vegetarian.

— munir was not the name he was given when he was created — there is no doubt about that, but it his true name is not pronounceable in a human tongue. he has held many names from the times he has walked land, but munir is a favorite of his. a nickname first given to him in the 1300s by a trader on the silk road. it means bright in arabic.

— he is able to semi-identify other seafolk by scent. read more HERE.

PERSONALITY

there are no shortage of those who might mistake munir’s peaceful outlook as one naïve, but believing in peace when you’ve seen centuries of terrors, of just how dark the world, the ocean, can be is harder than most would believe. it is exactly this knowledge that fuels the light within him. more exactly, it is the firsthand knowledge that good persists in spite of it all that drives him to believe that no soul is truly lost. he reserves his judgement from most situations, often a true NEUTRAL, doing whatever it takes to avoid a violent conflict. he does not believe in right and wrong, having seen too many times terrible things done for the right reasons. there is only peace and violence, and he wishes more people would see it that way. with this, comes a seemingly endless wealth of patience. he will calmly explain things a hundred different ways if that’s what it takes.

a hundred years is not the longest time in a hippocampus’ life, in his life, somewhere, munir knows this. but some days it feels like the past century has lasted longer then his entire life. the war between sirens and mermaids took a deeper toll on him than he reveals and it makes him stick to his beliefs of pacifism all the stronger. he doesn’t like conflict and often if he sees it, he cannot help but interject himself into the situation to help diffuse it. a skilled mediator, he’s quick to see both sides of an argument and it is this that often leads him to resolving issues quickly. ( sometimes, all this does is delay the INEVITABLE, but he chooses not to see it that way ). his familiarity with the surface world due to his frequent visits also helps him. he has inadvertently become a punching bag more than once because of this, but he never lashes back, just defends himself and never attacking.

there are drawbacks, of course. he can be endlessly stubborn, refusing to budge his own beliefs that tell him that anyone can be saved or persuaded — it is a bit ironic in that regard that he is, but it escapes him. selfless to a fault, he’s not overly protective of himself, often considering his well-being last in dangerous situations. he wants the best for everyone, for the world — that doesn’t include himself.

APPEARANCE

— land form : 6′0″, lean but heavily muscled. often sporting an almost unruly beard and curling hair. dark brown eyes that seem to glimmer with kindness.

— water form: horse-like half resembles a draft horse, tail is like a thresher shark ( built for speed and power underwater )

— heavily scarred in both his water and land form due to his tendency to inject himself into situations in an attempt to resolve them. he does know how to fight, but it is a heavily defensive style of blocking and evading blows rather than delivering them. this holds true for both form as well. he doesn’t believe in resolving things physically, and if things escalate to such he still attempts to talk to the one who opposes him to reach a peaceful conclusion.

— demeanor : at first glance munir can be incredibly daunting. there is often an almost grim, too serious expression on his face and when mixed with his scarred appearance, can make him cut a rather imposing figure though that isn’t his intention. however, that expression melts quickly away whenever he smiles and though his gruff appearance can intimidate some, at closer glance anyone can tell his eyes are nearly always warm — the first impressions of munir are often brief, quickly replaced with a warmer one. he often stands with a wide stance, hands in his jacket pockets. he looks at the ocean with open longing, something he often covers with the fact he’s painting an ocean scape — or sunglasses.

— style : faux leather jackets, soft crewneck shirts, semi-fitted pants, sunglasses.

— other : it’s not uncommon for munir to have flecks of paint on his hands and clothes. no matter how hard he tries it always seems to persist. it doesn’t bother him that much anyway.

OOC

helllo !!! i’m o, age 23, in the est timezone. i use they / them pronouns. i’m super excited to bring you munir !!

[pvrcelain]

for @alkaysani 💜🧡💜🧡

[pvrcelain]

#PVRCELAIN —     munir riahi,     the light hippocampus,     pacifist.     as portrayed by o ( 23, est, they + them ) for   portvalehq.

INTRO.  SKELETON.  CONNECTIONS.  HEADCANONS.  THREAD TRACKER.