Eiran

GENOCIDE XENOS with HOLIDAY CHEER # HO HO HO MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS - psst... shout out to Morgan Luthi's 'Snow'... I stole the entire concept from him...

It's cold. It's freezing. It's below zero - not sure by how much, but it's always below zero on Alba. Eiran *loves* it. Maybe it's some sort of twisted adaption of his original pre-programmed goal of wiping out all life - the cold, bleached appearance of the world under a blanket of icy, lifeless frigidity. But Eiran doesn't like that idea very much, so he chooses not to think about it. Or his previous life. At all. Ever. Surely that won't come back to haunt him (no pun intended) some day. Regardless, for whatever reason - Eiran loves the cold. And moreover he loves the *snow*. "Mmfmphkt-" Is not a dignified choice of words - or a word at all - yet it is the one that comes out of Eiran's mouth as he dives headfirst into a snowbank. Sifting through it and feeling the frosty chill on his skin... A normal human would probably have frostbite right now. The thought causes his body to shift and begin burning cold in reaction to the snow. "Ah! H-hah...c-cold!" Eiran chirps, as he pops his head out of the snow. Maybe he doesn't like the cold so much after all! Maybe instead he just loves...Alba. Its beauty, its frozen-ness... Maybe its people? Frankly, the aliens still give him a wary feeling of disgust - so varied! Tentacles and humanoids, feathers and scales... not to mention the *non* humanoids. Eugh. Eiran feels repulsed, but then he feels guilty for feeling repulsed. Above all else, he feels curious. Very curious. It's for that reason that the white-haired fascmile of a boy climbs atop the snowbank he'd been so playfully diving into and sits atop it. "Huh." He says, staring out into the cold wastes. The scar beneath his left eye highlights its singular shine, like a beacon through the heavy yet calm flow of snow that falls this morning. Eiran sticks out his tongue, and catches a snowflake on it. Why? He's not sure. Maybe it was a human thing, once upon a time - even he isn't certain what information on humans lurks in the Guardians database, used to create him. "Mmm..." He likes it. A smile crosses his face, and today is a good day. Hopefully it'll continue to be a good day. Maybe not, though. A figure appears in the distance. Getting to his feet and brushing off his big, pouch-laden blue winter jacket (he stole it off a frozen soldier. It's not like the soldier was using it, now was he?) Eiran approaches the figure with a strange mix of optimism, nerves, curiosity and pessimism. A creature of contradictions, in that regard. "Hello?" Eiran calls out timidly, once close. "Um...h-hello?" He clears his throat, trying for a more certain tone. "I don't want any trouble. Who's out there?"