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Two trolls born from one egg. While this phenomena is not unheard of, it is still rare enough to merit stares wherever you go. Twin psychics is even rarer; both you and your sibling were gifted with the power of telekinesis. You tackled the hectic trials together, even managing to both stay alive, and ended up with one lusus choosing to raise the two of you. It would be perfect, but for one key factor. You don't get along. Unlike most other twins, who tend to take on aspects of each other and become peas in a pod, you and your sibling have completely different views on something so important that it constantly comes between and drives you apart.

What exactly is this disagreement between you two? How do you feel about? How do you cope? What caused these different views, and when did you both start realizing that you didn't agree with each other? Are there any other differences between you two? Any similarities? Do you hope to work towards a fix for this issue, or simply can't wait until you can move out? While you don't have to answer all these questions, you can use them as a starting point to write a paragraph or two on how you feel about your relationship with your sibling.

This is a couple prompt, that means you have to find a partner and write your reply with them. Each of you should choose which troll you are applying for, and write your reply to the prompt from their point of view. Standard rules for standard roleplay entries applies, 500 words minimum, from third person past tense. These trolls will begin living in the same hive, due to having the same lusus, so they will most likely interact a fair bit in roleplay throughout their life. They are also expected to join opposing armies when they become adults, and have metaplot importance, so they will be rehomed if you become inactive. Submitting an entry with your partner will get both of you 1 event point. Please choose one of you to submit the form below, and have a note of who your partner is, and which troll they picked/what part they typed.







These adorable cake themed girls are up for grabs through a free for all drabble. Any mediums are permitted be it writing, art, photography, videography, prose, sculptures, animation- the sky's the limit! Anything goes so get as creative and crazy as you'd like, keeping the theme 'party food' in mind. Trolls are known for their downright ridiculous meals, so have fun with it! Create your own Alternian snack IRL and take pics, mock up a cooking blog, sculpt the perfect troll cupcake; of course, nothing is wrong with good ol' traditional writing or art either!

We'd just like to ask that if your entry does not include writing, (or does and you feel the need to elaborate further?), please include a short paragraph explaining or outlining your entry in any way you see fit; be it in character or not! Please use the code below to submit your entry, and if you have a preference for the girl you want, to choose.

A story of sibling rivalry...!
Sister: x I n s a n i c x Asu x
Brother: bunnyilove
---
[Asu's parts are written in yellowgreen.]


Essial Kincer was upset. A few nights prior she and her dear brother had been rough housing, and some blood was drawn. It was then that she noticed his was a tad bit greener than hers, meaning he was not a “real” yellowblood like her. She had shoved him away and taunted him about that until he ran off to hippodad. Ellery always ran off to hippodad. She shook her head to clear the thoughts of the past and then climbed up onto the small step ladder she'd brought into the laundry room. With a mischievous grin, she opened the running washer and dumped in a small packet of green powder.
If he was going to be slightly more green in blood, he should have to wear slightly more green clothes! Satisfied with her work, she stepped off of the stool and skittered up to her room. Since the spat, they had been avoiding each other, so it wasn't very hard for her to get back to her room unnoticed. Once inside she walked over to her husktop and sat down in front of it on the floor. Dying his clothes had made her feel a little better, but she wasn't going to fess up to it, oh no, she was going to pretend she had no idea what had happened.

It had been awhile since he saw his dear sister, which he enjoyed more than he'd like to admit. They had gotten into a tiff and yet again it was he who was coming out with cuts and bruises. It always happen like that, Essial was always beating up on him and this time she had even drew blood, which caused him so much trouble the last few days. Just because his blood was just a little bit greener then hers she was making fun of him for it. She shoved him and even taunted him and it was just becoming ridiculous. It gotten so bad that he went to his hippodad to tell him what she was doing but he took her side and said that she was just playing around. She was most certainly not playing around because she kept doing it even after he politely told her to stop multiple times. She was just awful and he just wished she would stop calling him a green blood. If it was her that was greener looking than yellow then it wouldn’t be the same. She would more then likely says that she was cooler then him because green was cooler then yellow. But if he would say that then she would just laugh and keep calling him a green blood. He sighed and gently walked to the washer that had stopped just a few minutes ago. He was happy to know that his blood was washed from his clothes. He gently climbed up on the stepped ladder and open up the washer and to his horror his clothes were a deep forest green. “Essial! I know you did this. It’s not funny!” he yelled with tears forming in his eyes.

Essial couldn't help but giggle to herself. He had finally found the clothes. Perfect. She stood up and wandered over to her door, taking her time. Once there she opened it, and then poked her head out into the hall way. “I dunno what'yer talkin' about!” She called back at the top of her lungs, then paused, and added, “what're y'blamin' for THIS time?!” His reaction was going to be perfect. And it would certainly make her feel better in the end. So she thought, anyway.

Ellery pouted out his cheeks and frowned. She absolutely knew what he was talking about. He hated when she did this. Every time she played a foolish game on him she always said she had no idea what he was talking about. It had to be her; hippodad wouldn’t have done it so it had to be her. He was so upset, why would she do something like this. His face turned a bit yellow and tears ran down his face. “Yes you do, Essial. I know it was you! You turned my clothes green!” he said between sobs.

He quickly jumped offed the stepped ladder and ran to her. “I’m not blaming you for anything because this time I know it was you.” He said wiping the tears away from his face. “I’m telling hippodad about this!” He said running off to once again tattle on his sister.

A story of sibling rivalry...!
Sister: Syusaki
Brother: Carhop Calvalier
---
( Double brackets denote my parts )

[[“Why did we have to live in the city?” Lupeld thought aloud in a lazy drawl. She stared at the ceiling of the cramped apartment with her mouth open. Maybe if she kept it open long enough she would begin to dribble drool, but she closed her mouth and rolled onto her stomach. Cheeks puffed out, she crawled toward the sofa, threw all of the junk on it to the floor, then climbed onto the cushions so she could shuffle through her Fiduspawn cards in comfort. “Agrome, clean this up.” She waved her arm at the mess she had created. “Or Hydramom. She can clean it up too.”

Then she threw her cards across the floor and sighed. “I’m bored.” She cupped her face with her hands and began to pick up the cards to form a pyramid via telekinesis. “Agrome, let’s make some clothes.” For once, she actually asked for her twin’s opinion. “What do you want to make?”]]

Hissing as his pixelated hero died on the cramped and overly saturated screen thanks to his twin, Agrome turned his head to give his sister a very nasty look. "You clean it up! You made it, brat!" He grumped, nearly returning to his video game before noticing that she was doing it again. Dropping the controller, he fumed his way over three steps, and kicked down her castle of cards.

"What have I told you before, Lupeld? Don't just use your gift like it's nothing!" He was seething now, and got a wary eye from their Hydramom. Not this nonsense again. Agrome rolled his own eyes and shook his head. This wasn't worth it - but...he had to, okay? He had to harp on her. "And no, I don't want to make clothes with you today. You're going to want to make something Fiduspawn inspired again, which is the stupidest idea ever." He gave a loud HARUMPH! and crossed his arms, just standing there. Stupid brat.

[[“But I don’t want to,” she whined, her eyes never leaving the tower of cards. Lupeld shrieked when her twin knocked down her hard work. “Hey! What was that for?” Rather than slide off the couch, she remained reclining on her stomach. Instead, the fallen controller floated off the ground and zoomed right back into Agrome’s arms with ferocious force. Somewhere behind her she could hear the sound of claws scratching against the floor. It was Hydramom, her twin heads snapping its jaws before bending down to pick up the items.

Lupeld propped her elbows on the sofa’s armrest while she glared at Agrome. “Why should I? It’s a gift, Agrome. Why waste a gift like this?” She shrieked loudly at her brother. “Fiduspawn is not stupid! Your stupid games are!” Lupeld stuck her tongue out. If anyone here was the brat, it was Agrome.]]

Agrome let out a long and loud sigh of anger at his sister. So, so stupid! "No, Lupeld! Gifts are meant to be treasured and used sparingly!" He was going to walk away at that point, but Lupeld decided that she would stick her tongue out at him. Oh hell to the no, that was not okay. He stomped his feet and picked up the couch with his powers, sliding the ignorant brat off of it. "You are so lazy! Get up and gather materials if you want to make clothing!"

Hydramom was getting agitated, snapping one head at the boy of the pair, and the other at the girl. Ignorant little children, being selfish and stupid. If they could just work out their differences!

[[“Treasured? And that means locking them up? Letting them collect dust? Turn them into something pretty to think about and look at? I think not!” Lupeld yelled back, crawling over the armrest to point an accusing finger at Agrome. She clung to the chair as it wobbled into the air. The twin let out another shriek when the chair tilted, forcing her off. She fell to the ground into an unsightly pile of fabrics and glitter. Her growling was drowned out by the angry snapping of Hydramom.

“He started it!” she seethed before glaring back at her brother. “You know what? Fine! Fine.” Scrapes of cloth flew everywhere, spiraling into a miniature tornado before Lupeld sent it toward Agrome. Hydramom snapped back at Lupeld. Her head snapped toward the lusus. “Shut up!” Eyes narrowed, she summoned the nearest weapon in the room and flung the blade at Hydramom.]]

A squelch and a shriek, and one of Hydramom's heads was writhing on the floor in the last frantic neuron pulses, screeching and floundering like a fish out of water, whilst two more head grew from the newly slashed neck that had remained on her body. Three heads were snapping at the children now, and the severed one was silent.

"Now look at what you've done, idiot! She's got another head now!" Agrome shrieked, high pitched voice cracking, showing that he was on the verge of rage filled tears. "This is all your fault!" The sewing machine was hefted into the air and volleyed at the girl without remorse.

[[Lips curled into a smile as she watched Hydramom grow another pair of heads. Lupeld had to wonder how many heads the lusus could grow, but she didn’t dare try to find out. The apartment was cramped enough as is. She frowned as Hydramom’s heads snapped at them both. “What! Fine. Sorry.” Not sorry.

She cackled at Agrome. “So what? What’s wrong with three heads, huh?” Lupeld would have continued to laugh if it wasn’t for the sewing machine. She gasped, clung to the machine as she stumbled backwards into the wall before sliding down. Eyes narrowed, she tossed the machine to the ground and tauntingly cut off another head. “I guess this is my fault too, but you know what? I don’t care!” Her tongue poked out until she blew a raspberry. “I can’t wait to grow up and leave. I can’t work with you at all.” With a huff, she spun on her heels and stormed into her tiny room, the door slamming and rattling the walls.]]

The same process happened as it did just a moment ago. Squelch, shriek, hiss, snap. Hydramom had five heads now, all snapping and hissing at the trolls she had taken to watch. So much potential, and it could all possibly go to waste before they even reached maturity. She gave a final hiss at Lupeld as she slammed her door, before turning her multiple heads to Agrome.

"Don't look at me like that!" The male troll wailed, eyes getting wibbly. Hydramom cooed a little with one head, nudging the boy as he used his psyonic powers to fix the room back up. His sniffling stopped as he allowed Hydramom to curl one one of her necks around him. "I just don't understand; why is she so intent on leaving? I don't mean to get upset with her; but she's such a brat. I can't not get mad when she acts like a wriggler." He whined, looking into Hydramom's five sets of eyes. The lusus shook its heads, and nudged Agrome towards his own cramped room. He needed a nap, in her opinion.

A story of sibling rivalry...!
Sister: quite uneventful
Brother: Galaxa13

(quite talks in color!)

He didn't know what to think of her.

She didn't know what to think of him.

She was always so pushy. Always needing to bother him about something or other. "You should go out more, Kiukku. We should play a game, Kiukku. Why don't you ever let me read your stories, Kiukku?" Endless noise coming from her blabber box.

He was just so.... different. He didn't talk. He liked quiet. He liked solitude. He had this weird delusion that real people were horrible and weren't even worth a shred of his time. "Leave me alone, Tylien. Go away, Tylien. I don't want to go out, Tylien." He'd growl.

He really couldn't understand why she enjoyed socializing so much. Every troll he had ever met (including her) was stupid. Why did he have to come from the same egg as her? Why did they have to share a lusus and hive?

He hated everyone. Even her. His sister. They came from the same egg, the same lusus, the same... Well, everything.

Sharing a respiteblock with her was so tiring. He always had to remind her to clean up her side, or at least keep it from spilling onto his. Really, how could a troll that always fussed over how he dressed not keep her things in order? She needed to make sure his clothes were just right so that they'd match and needed to make sure his hair was perfectly cute and everything else that made him want to gag. He'd let her do it, of course, if only to get her to shut up.

He'd sit down grudgingly, grumbling while she'd thread a finger through his hair adoringly. His hair was so smooth, so soft— it felt like silk. She'd brush his hair softly, pulling a piece of it back behind his horns and clipping a small accessory to his head to hold it in place, afterwards brushing the large tufts of hair from covering his profile and making them, instead, frame his face. She'd then brush the back of his head once more, to unravel the knots, and sometimes... sometimes she'd say she messed up, sometimes she'd say she'd have to redo it— just because she wanted to try it one more time. His hair— she couldn't get enough of it. But if she took too long, he'd push her away.

She always needed to fuss about something. It was so annoying. Why couldn't she just sit still and enjoy the quiet? Why was she such a meddlesome spazz?

She just didn't understand him, and she hated that. It was just so annoying. Why did he like staying home? Why did he hate everyone? Why was he always such an annoying p***k?

It was always such a pain whenever the two of them would engage in their shaired hobby of kirigami. He'd try so hard to keep the little paper scraps together, but she'd always make a mess or start doing something just to annoy him. She couldn't leave him alone even when he did something she enjoyed too!

Kirigami was fun... But it seemed as if, slowly, all the things they did together either frustrated one of them, or they just sat in awkward, unwanted silence. She would try to get him to talk to her, just a bit, ya'know, to lighten the tension? But he didn't respond back to her in the way she wanted him to answer, he was just grumbling and being all around hard to talk to. So she'd drop her bits of paper abruptly, and try to make him have fun with her. She'd pull him up, and make music— singing, thumping the floor, trying to get him to move, to do something instead of just sit there and write... except he'd yell at her to stop, and wrench his hand out of her grasp. He'd try to ignore her, no matter how many times she tried to get his attention. She'd ask to read his stories— he'd shove her away. It irritated her so much— she just wanted to get up and leave sometimes because of his incompetence.

It was always a constant battle between the two of them, would they go out or stay in? Kiukku of course always favored to stay home and write stories or update his calendar. They had a system of letting the dice have final say in their disputes (he always called evens) and followed their will.

But she couldn't leave the house because he didn't want to— unless the dice rolled in her favor— odds, they went out, evens they stayed in. Usually it landed on evens. And that made her so mad.

He just couldn't wrap his head around it. Why did he have to come from the same egg as her? Why did they have to share a lusus and hive? God, he couldn't wait until she was old enough to leave the hive without their lusus so he could stay behind. What a happy night that would be, to not be dragged around by her or ignore her whining while he read. Then things would finally be peaceful. Or at least until she came back.

He'd never understand her.

Sometimes she'd think— why couldn't she be hatched a normal troll without a twin? But every time she thought that— every single time, it made her feel horrible, it made her hurt inside. Just the prospect of not seeing him next to her made her feel uncomfortable. She saw him with her in everything, she always thought of him— why couldn't he be more social? Why didn't he want to share anything?

She wanted to understand him.

Delicious Cake, I must have it.
Preference: Redblood
---
Tortea Bundte whirled and twirled around her hive, busily setting up for the event to come. It was her wonderful moirail’s wriggling day! There was no way she was going to let this pass without some sort of celebration. She would only throw the best party for her dear moirail, that was for sure.

First, Tortea started in the kitchen, surveying the bowls and plates she had set out and taking inventory. What caught her eye first was the tray of miniature heated canine tubules, or as her higher-class moirail would call them, hot dogs. They were all perfectly wrapped in rolls of bread baked around them, making them “oinkbeasts in a blanket.” Why they suddenly shifted from canines to oinkbeasts once the blanket was added was beyond her, but she simply attributed that to the magic of cooking. With a cheerful giggle, she set the tray back in the oven so that they’d stay good and warm for the party. These particular goodies were definitely a party favorite, as they were self-contained. No muss, no fuss, no leftover pieces of bun from when the eater ate the hot dog first!

Right next to where she had taken the blanketed oinkbeasts from on the counter, the moobeast meat patties were ready to be warmed up. She would set up a station where the trolls could construct their own “burgers” with all the essentials: cheese, pickles, lettuce, onions, two kinds of grubsauce… you name it, Tortea made sure it was there for the trolls to put on their burgers. Granted, the vegetables were something of a “just in case” measure since trolls weren’t always that big on their veggies (particularly ones as young as her), but they were present nonetheless. There were going to be Alternian fried potatoes with them as well, for she knew how much trolls liked to dip their fries in grubsauce. A winning combination if there ever was one!

What came next…? Ah, yes, the miniature cheese and sauce breads! Or just mini pizzas. Sometimes Tortea wondered why she didn’t just take up her moirail’s slang; it was so much quicker to say. Well, old habits were hard to break, and Tortea was a creature of habit, so she probably wouldn’t be switching slangs anytime soon. At any rate, the pizzas were looking nice and bubbly, so they’d be ready to eat by the time the guests arrived. The fun thing about all these shrunken-down versions of favorite treats was that they could be eaten in many ways. They could be eaten bite by bite, picked apart, or just popped into the mouth all in one go (not recommended if the food is particularly hot). Tortea herself liked to take things bite by bite, but she knew that her moirail was a “popper.”

Next on the list was the shrimp and spiced grubsauce. Seafood was mostly for seadwellers, but it wasn’t entirely unusual for the occasional landdweller to take a liking to it as well. Tortea’s moirail sad that he had tried it at a seadweller friend’s house and he’d had a craving for it ever since. It was almost prohibitively expensive for her to get as much shrimp as she did, but she bought it all nonetheless. She would have to be very careful for the next month or so, but that wasn’t something that she wasn’t used to.

There was one last item of interest on her list of party food: the crisped grub skins and dip. The fun thing about crisped grub skins was all the different colors. The majority of the chips were red or orange- such is life on Alternia- but every so often there would be a yellow one, and Tortea even found a green one once. She swore that, if she found a blue chip, she was going to find a way to sell it as a collector’s item. Meanwhile, the dip had been very carefully prepared by Tortea herself. Unlike some unscrupulous dip makers, she did not use slime to thicken the dip. For one, she didn’t think it was a good idea to use stuff trolls slept in in her food, and for another, the possible side effects of putting in too much slime could be dangerous! She was proud that she didn’t have to resort to such a dirty trick to get her dips nice and thick.

A knock at the door nearly made Tortea knock the bowl of dip off the counter. “I’m coming!” she called, making dead sure that her large raccoon lusus wasn’t about to crawl to the counter and eat everything before scurrying to the door. When she opened it, two greenbloods and a tealblood were waiting outside her hive, all three with presents in hand. “Ah! You must be Toltus’s friends! Come in! Just let me put your gifts over… there, and come on in!” With a lovely smile, she took each of their gifts and set them in the corner of her hive before going back to the kitchen to fetch the food (and to chase her lusus away from it).

From there, more and more guests began to filter in (there were at least twelve of them by the time the flow stopped), and Tortea laid the food out on tables set up around her hive. Already, she could hear the other trolls commending her cooking, and one girl even asked her for the recipe to the spiced grubsauce. However, the party’s main attraction had not arrived yet. Where was Toltus? All his friends were waiting for him!

And just like that, Tortea opened the door to find her handsome moirail standing right outside. He was a sweep older than she was, and quite tall and muscular for his age. He kept his dark hair slicked back, and the symbol on his shirt- that of a circle with a triangular piece missing- was in the true blue of his blood color. “‘Sup, babe?” he said with a joking smile. Ah, dare she say it… her moirail could be such a hunk at times! Maybe she had a minor flush-crush on him. Maybe.

“Toltus! Happy wriggling day!” Tortea jumped into his arms, and he embraced her and took her for a spin before setting her down on the ground. “Come on in! All your friends are waiting for you!”

Toltus followed Tortea into the hive, and he was greeted by a chorus of “happy wriggling day!” from Tortea and the other trolls. “Aw, shucks, you did all this for me?” Toltus said as he gave Tortea’s hair a ruffling. “Look at all this food! You really outdid yourself this time, Torts.”

“Only the best for your wriggling day, Tolts! You know how much I love to cook, and cooking for someone only makes it better.” Tortea handed her moirail a plate. “Go on! Taste something!”

On command, Toltus went around to each table and took some mini hot dogs, a burger, a mini pizza, a shrimp, and some grub skins and dip, tasting each one in turn. “Scrumptious!” he declared, licking his fingers. “Everything is, as usual, cooked to perfection. Thanks, Tortea!”

“That’s not all! Wait just a minute!” Tortea scampered into the kitchen after giving the other guests a signal to quiet down. A few minutes later, she walked out with a tremendous, elaborately frosted two-tier grubloaf on a platter, her lusus plodding along beside her as she went. The cake had white frosting as the backdrop for many red and blue loops and spirals, all delicate as ribbons. On top of the cake were precisely seven candles to mark Toltus’s seventh sweep of life. “Everyone, let’s sing ‘happy wriggling day’ now!”

As the chorus rang out “happy wriggling day to you,” Tortea beamed at her handiwork. Everyone was enjoying the food she had created, and Toltus seemed more than happy with his party. He put his arm around her, and she leaned into him, waiting till the end of the song to blow a party blower at him. Raising her fist, she cried out, “Everybody, dig in!”

And they did, alright. There was a small argument over who got to eat from the top and bottom tiers, but once that was solved, everyone was eating peacefully and discussing how good the cake was (amongst other things). Tortea had gone around to check on the other guests when Toltus called her over. “Tortea, come here.”

“Yes?” she said as she approached, unsure of just what Toltus planned to say or do.

Toltus gave Tortea’s hair a ruffling once more. “You’re the best moirail a guy could ask for. Thanks for putting all this effort into an awesome party.”

Tortea threw her arms around her moirail and nestled her head into his chest. “For you, I’ll do only my best.”

A story of sibling rivalry...!
Sister: Melancholies
Brother: Soldier of Song

It was always a treat when the Modsats left their quiet suburban home to venture into the bustling city of New Hemisect. In that moonlit metropolis, there was always something going on, always something new to capture on camera, but Curtsi didn't need much of an excuse to start snapping photos. It wasn't like his sister Trusci had found any noteworthy news as of late anyway, but this trip could be their chance to find their next big scoop! Well, Curtsi was a little less than thrilled at the prospect of wandering away from their lusus when she specifically said, if they wanted to stay out and play, to at least stay near the shop's window where she could see them. He wasn't afraid to say as much, already sensing that his twin was just raring to get lost in the crowd when he was just fine standing here and taking pictures, thanks. "We should stay, Trusci." It sounded like a suggestion, but with how stern Curtsi looked, it was obvious he wasn't taking any other ideas. "Duckmom said..."

A treat indeed! As it were, the yellowblood girl was behaving for the moment as she stood near the window, peering in obnoxiously with her face pressed to the glass. It didn't take long for their lusus to become involved, and as such she took the chance to spin around with a mischievous smirk, completely ignoring her brother over there as she dug out her trusty notepad and pen. Stories didn't make themselves, you know! "Duckmom said what?" she asked, shooting Curtsi that all-too-familiar "are you going to try and stop me or something" stare. "Headlines aren't 'gonna come around to us if we just stand here, y'know!" she said in a matter-of-fact voice as she started the deliberate walk away, with or without her brother's consent. "But whatever. I'm going to go get some real work done, Curtsi, you can stand around with your dumb camera if you want, but I'm going!", emphasis added on all the "I'm"s because, well, it was she that did all the hard work anyway, with or without Curtsi! It was easy to snap a photo, but writing? Looking for trolls to question? That took effort and time and energy! Who needed dumb pictures anyway?

And there it was. Of course it would be too much to ask for Trusci to listen just once, because it was never that easy. He saw the challenge in her stare, of course, but this time he wouldn't be taking the bait. No, he had absolutely no intention of trying to "stop her or something", simply biting his tongue and turning away, completely intending to stay like a good child. That was, until she had the gall to go and insult Curtsi's beloved camera. He whipped around, "Hey!", but she was off and now he was too, chasing after with the not-at-all dumb camera clutched in his hands. "Trusci!" Catching up to her, he was about ready to start up another round of "my camera's not dumb, your writing is dumb!" when priorities caught up to him. No no, they were still walking away from where they were supposed to be, and Curtsi's voice became more frantic now as he glanced back, tugging on his sister's vest. "Duckmom said to stay!" But then, it probably wouldn't matter if even the empress herself said to stay put. Another desperate bid, then: "You're going to get in trouble!"

So caught up in her fantasies of how she was going to embark on this marvelous journey to find some tasty tidbit of a tip for some thrilling story, Trusci hardly noticed her brother until the tug on her vest; "Hey! Le'ggo!" she piped up, swatting at the hand as she turned around again. Never have your back to the enemy! "And I'm not gonna get in trouble!" she spat, narrowing her eyes in childish contempt while a pout blossomed across her face. "Nothin's gonna happen if we just sit around waiting, that's booooring!", a pause, "You're boooooring!" she threw in, because evidently blatant insubordination just wasn't enough, she had to go the extra mile to cast an immature insult at him. Oh well, it was true! Besides, it wasn't ever her fault she got in trouble, not at all. If only Curtsi would go along with her antics and didn't insist on this strife, they could actually get somewhere and do something without the trouble; scot-free! It was dumb. This was dumb, and him being dumb was making her dumb!

Of course, with her back turned to the general public, she was a tad bit unaware of all the activities she was so keen on observing. With a huff, the girl turned around and stomped off again, only to smack right into some unknown passerby-er, 'Hey, watch where you're going!' blurting out from both parties, almost simultaneously in a strange unfortunate serendipity. Eyes narrowed, the yellowblood twin hardly noticed the blue symbol proudly displayed on the other, bigger child. "No, watch where you're going, you filthy lowblood!"

Of course, Trusci reacted less than favorably, balling her fists as she forgot the whole purpose of her "big scoop", responding with a "Whadd'ya say?!". Her notepad and pen went clattering to the dirty city floor as she rolled up non-existent sleeves on her arms. She always was a little reckless; she just hoped Curtsi wouldn't try to get in the way this time.

Keep hoping, Trusci. Despite how reserved Curtsi was, and certainly he was quick to drop his will to argue with his sister and withdraw instead as soon as he saw the strange troll, he knew what was coming and, more importantly, he knew he had to act. Trying to ignore the jolt of fear at the insult, filthy lowblood, Curtsi stepped in front of his twin, head bowed as he quickly cut in. "Sorry, she didn't mean that." This was bad, they needed to go now, and the impatient huff of the highblood's lusus had Curtsi shaking in his spats. But, just as he was expecting a barrage of more insults or maybe (hopefully) a sharp dismissal, the other troll's tone suddenly changed. Like he was trying to make small-talk, be friendly even, as he commented "Nice camera."

Oh! Nice to see that someone could appreciate his art! Maybe this troll wasn't so bad after all; shame on Trusci for being so rude to a prospective friend. Perking up, even managing to look up with a smile, Curtsi began with a "Thank you—" but the words died in his throat as the highblood demanded "Let me have it." At that, the yellowblood could only blink, uncomprehending at first—"Give it"—but there was no mistaking it, the highblood was asking for his beloved camera and, as a lowblood, he had to obey.

"Right," Curtsi averted his gaze again, hope gone out like a light as shaky hands pulled the camera strap over his head. Right, so he'd hand it over. And maybe then they could leave and go back to Duckmom when they never even supposed to leave at all, and she was probably going to be mad at them, at him when he hadn't even meant to wander off, honest, it was Trusci's fault they left and now it was Trusci's fault he was losing his camera as he tried to fight back the tears.

Well, she was one to be optimistic. 'Course her expectations always fell short; there he went, butting in! She whined in protest as Curtsi interjected, eyes widening in disbelief when he apologized on her behalf. She could see it then: HEADLINES, "CURTSI IS A WIMP"; papers flying off the shelves as everyone, completely lacking in surprise, learned things they already knew—amazing! Jaw set as she silently stood by, fists balled at her sides now, she only watched her cowardly brother with nothing short of disgust. He was always this way, always so, so... so subordinate! Where was his backbone, his spine? Highbloods didn't have nothin' on a couple of psychics; if only he could see that! They had something amazing here!

But no. Jaw dropping when he just offers the camera over— he loved that thing! Yet he was so quick to give it away? God forbid she tried to touch it, but the other troll could get away with it; and why? Because he was a highblood? She honestly couldn't believe what she was witnessing when the blueblood took the camera into his hands, roughly looking over the thing with modest interest. She looked to her brother, who was in tears. It was his fault he intervened! It was his fault he gave it away; he didn't have to give the camera away! He didn't have to listen to the guy because he was a highblood why couldn't he understand that!

As it were, the blueblood seemed all too happy with the outcome, snickering at the two; at Curtsi's pathetic demeanor, at her indignant stance. Her twin was making them out to be some kind of laughingstock! If only he had let her handle it— if only—! She couldn't take it anymore! A warm buzz filled her mind as she concentrated on the camera in the highblood's hands, eyes nearly set in a glare as she snatched the object away with her telekinesis—"What the-"-before safely grabbing onto the object, taking in the highbloods incredulous expression; priceless.

Curtsi better not be mad, though. She was doing him a favor here!

The anger would come soon. First, it was surprise, just as the highblood felt at the sight of Trusci's telekinesis. Not because Curtsi hadn't known about the power, of course he knew when he was similarly gifted himself, but no, his surprise came because Trusci was not only so bold with using it, but against a higherblood to boot! That was unacceptable, and finally the anger came, or at least as much as he could manage while crying in upset as he grabbed the camera, not with telekinesis, but with his own two hands. The fact that she had, indeed, done him a favor was lost on Curtsi as he clutched the camera to his chest, wailing at her. "Just stop, Trusci! You only ever get us into trouble! Stop!"

It sure felt like trouble when the strange lusus bristled forward with a snarl at the altercation, the other troll hurling insults Curtsi didn't even hear now, as much as he wanted to listen, so caught up in his tears. It was only a mixture of fear and sad obedience that kept him rooted to the spot despite how badly he wanted to leave, leave Trusci behind and run all the way back to Duckmom when he never should have—never would have—left in the first place. "CURTSI IS A WIMP" indeed, what a scoop! This scene would have made for a nice accompanying photo, if only Curtsi had been able to do his job

Of course, because why would he be grateful that she got him his dumb camera back? Had the blueblood's lusus not made it abundantly clear that it was incredibly agitated and has no qualms about slaughtering a couple of dumb lowblood kids, she probably would of turned and started yelling at her twin right then and there! 'Course, that could wait, given the fact that an angry lusus was sort of more important. If only Curtsi wasn't so against using his powers; they could be such a dream-team— unstoppable, even! Things weren't meant to work out that way, it seemed.

Of course, things could be worse. A frantic series of quacks and camel-snorts distracted the young yellowblooded girl as she turned to see Duckmom frantically hurrying over. She was just like Curtsi; always telling them to lay low and not interfere with highbloods, respect them. It made it hard for her, because she always got the blame, she was always the one getting in trouble. Duckmom was just being a concerned lusus though; Curtsi was just being difficult goody-goody. She could only shoot the highblood a glare as the bizarre camel-duck lusus tried to herd her two twins away, away from the danger.

Which, whatever. The highblood could win this time; Curtsi could win this time. It seemed the other troll's lusus was deciding that it wasn't worth the effort, leading his charge away, too. It was at that moment that she noticed her trusty pad of paper and pen were absent from her tiny balled up hands. She grumbled; Oh well— at least that could be easily replaced.

Finally, the cavalry (camelry?) had arrived. It brought a scolding, he knew, and certainly the ride home would be awkward with each twin seated on their own separate hump while Duckmom quacked in disappointment, but as it was, Curtsi was just relieved to see his lusus. There was no shame in fleeing, if you asked him, and just as shamelessly as he continued crying, the yellowblood rushed to meet Duckmom, allowing himself to be herded away. Already, she had begun her fretful berating, but Curtsi hadn't tried to argue back that it was all Trusci's fault, even though it was, spotting her journalism instruments, so unrefined unlike his camera!, but unable to look at her proper.

It was only later, when they had arrived home and were separated to think about what they had done (and it was probably Curtsi thinking too much and Trusci thinking not at all) that Duckmom had approached the young boy alone. He knew this, too, was coming because it always came. Duckmom had found Curtsi sulking in his darkroom, his favorite retreat be it good mood or bad, and after his teary explanation, her hushed voice like rustling feathers almost made the suggestion sound like a good idea: "Curtsi, you'll forgive your hasty sister, won't you?"

He stared down at the pen and notepad in hand. He never used his telekinesis out in public, but with the commotion and all, surely no one had noticed. It was dumb, a thoughtless move anyway, but leaving these behind hadn't seemed right. Maybe it was nothing compared to how she had saved his camera, but all the same, he had to thank his twin somehow. A camera could be easily replaced, but as Duckmom had always told them, they had some special. Something that couldn't be replaced at all. So he'd forgive Trusci, and she'd call the truce. She always did.

A story of sibling rivalry...!
Sister: antagonisticDelighter
Brother: thyPOPE

---

Today just wasn’t a clear day. Narwan hated days like these - most days, the young troll was pretty certain about what was going to happen when it was time to get dressed. Narwan knew exactly what to wear and felt quite happy and comfortable with it - whether it was a cute little dress or a dashing little suit, the youngling was content and happy with what was to be worn and presented that day.

Some days, though... some days were like today, and ze just didn’t know what to wear.

Narwan was not like most trolls, though ze didn’t quite understand that just yet. Whereas ze was born female, ze did not feel that way - all the time. Every morning, ze went through the same thing; getting dressed in the morning was a ritual of identity, trying to figure out what ze felt like that day. Some days, ze was “he,” and some days, ze was “she” - on those days, usually identifying as Nawani rather than Narwan - but some days … some days ze was stuck in between, uncertain as to who or what ze really was. With the lack of proper understanding or a proper word for it, these days were rather frustrating for the little creature; while it was something ze’d come to deal with, it still wasn’t pleasant feeling uncomfortable in one’s skin. Older trolls who knew Narwan and zer brother often blamed the “condition” on growing in the same egg - maybe it affected zer brain oddly! Narwan zerself didn’t particularly think anything was wrong with zim, per se, though - ze just wished, on days like this, to have a better set of expectations and words to express zerself.

… most unfortunately, however, was the fact that this morning ritual always took a fair amount of time - but on days like this, it took even longer. The worst bit, of course, lay in the fact that the twins’ closets were set up side by side in the same room - so with Narwan currently hogging the dressing room for quite a while (precisely two hours and fifty-seven minutes), ze was already well over zer turn for the moment - and it didn’t look like ze was going to be out anytime soon, as ze was currently sprawled in the middle of the floor with a wrinkled dress and coat top splayed in front of zim, struggling to figure out how ze was going to face the world today.

Ornbar, on the other hand, was just outside the hinged entrance cover, waiting for his sister (he didn’t care what clothing she squeezed herself into; she was definitely female) to just come out already. “Put your clothing on now, Narwan!” He didn’t really see why she had to take so long in the adornment block, ever - then again, Ornbar almost always dressed in the same ensemble. “You’d better not be stealing my scarf.” He’d dyed the scarf himself; it was a point of pride for him. Narwan hadn’t been any help at all in catching the grub he’d gotten the requisite blood from, either; it had all been the work of Bookmom. And, um, also Ornbar. Kind of.

He’d orchestrated it, anyway.

And he’d stood next to Bookmom and watched. And he’d...he’d also used his physics manipulation abilities to levitate a rock.

It had been hard work! Ornbar hated going outside except on their outings to the New Hemisect Library (where, it seemed, there were always more books to read) - there’d been one planned tonight, actually, which was why he was so anxious. “I don’t understand why you don’t just let me go first every day,” he told her petulantly through the door. Ah, the perils of taking too long to dress: having to listen to Ornbar talk. He liked the sound of it, which meant that Narwan was subjected to it far more often than she’d probably have liked. “I mean, my hair is more important, yes, but you spend all your time in there just pacing. It’s frustrating.”

The twins tended to trade turns - one would use the adornment block first, and the other would head to the waste disposal block, which contained both a mirror and the twins’ entire supply of gelatinous filamentous head covering styling product. Or, more accurately, Ornbar’s entire supply of gelatinous filamentous head covering styling product: Narwan used hardly any of it on most days.

Admittedly Ornbar tended to spend awhile in that block, too, but the fact that he was done meant that something was up. “If you don’t come out now, I’m calling Bookmom.”

“Ornbar, shut up!” The last thing - the very last thing in fact - that Narwan needed right now was zer annoying twin brother breathing down zer neck. Really, how was ze supposed to deal with this dilemma with his stupid face gabbing through the door? Ornbar was always talking about stupid things, like ‘science’ when something was clearly magic or how Narwan was definitely a girl and needed to act like a girl and stop being so weird and he just … just …

“It’s my turn to dress first! You always take forever!” ze yelled back, angrily standing up and stomping a foot. “If you call Bookmom, I’ll tell her that you ate ALL of the rest of the hoofbeast steaks last night you … you … you greedy grub!”

Narwan wasn’t the best at name calling or threats - not nearly as much as Ornbar anyway. But ze tried.

Ze grunted, then screwed up zer face in an angry, rebellious look. If he was going to be a jerk then fine - ze made up zer mind. Ze’d be a boy today - if only to make zer stupid twin angrier. Ze rushed to zer side of the adornment block and hunted for a pair of shorts and a beat up, old shirt that ze - now he - wouldn’t mind getting dirty... because he was totally going to beat Ornbar up if he kept opening his stupid mouth.

-

“You’re a big dumb wiggler,” he grumped angrily when he finally unlocked the door, pointedly lunging out and shoving Ornbar’s shoulder as he emerged. “A big dumb slimy wiggler with stupid slimy hair!”

Outside, Ornbar fumed. Narwan always tattled. But he could return her repartee: “You’re the grub - you can’t even dress yourself! And you’re always reading those silly grubby tales - magic doesn’t exist. Get over it!” Science was better, anyway - it made sense, and everything happened the exact same way each day. It was predictable.

Ornbar didn’t even know what magic was supposed to be. He recoiled, though, when he saw his sister come barreling out of the door - the shove to his shoulder helped, but it was really her ensemble that did it in for him. “Those are my body coverings!” They weren’t, really - Ornbar wore green these nights (as he truly deserved - unlike his crass sister, he was of the upper class sort!), and he always wore his waistcoat and spats, but they also weren’t the clothes he’d worn before Bookmom had gone and slaughtered that grub for him. But they were definitely...male clothes, and of a male cut, too, with the neckline a little too low for a girl to wear even at Narwan’s age.

“And my hair isn’t slimy; it’s fabulous.” Ornbar gestured (elegantly, he thought) at the structure and volume that his hair gel had lent his hair today. “I don’t know why you think that crow’s nest you call your hair is acceptable at all!” He dashed into the adornment block, though, and shut the door after himself with his physics manipulation lest Narwan come after him.

Okay, so. Green. Ornbar didn’t actually have a difficult time in the adornment block - almost all of his clothing was identical, because he liked order and predictability and also waistcoats and spats and shorts ironed neatly. But, ah - it was the ironing part that frustrated Narwan.

Where’d he put their iron again?

”Your hair is ugly! Ugly and stupid and dumb like those dumb books you’ve always got your stupid nose in!” shouted the rather irate young troll as the door slammed past his face. He was fuming now; Ornbar was always so … pretentious! He was always right, always knew what was best, and always had a logical, ordered answer to everything. Narwan, quite honestly, hated it - he hated Ornbar’s insistence on order, he hated Ornbar’s delusional belief that he was a greenblood (when clearly he WAS NOT), and he hated the stupid … grub-head’s determined efforts at telling him what gender to be. As if his body was so important and his feelings had nothing to do with it!

“And magic does too exist! How did you shut the door if it doesn’t, huh? Huh?” Narwan fumed at said door, clenching small fists at his sides as he yelled. He didn’t notice their lusus - a strange creature resembling a book, though it was in fact an insectoid mimic - peering around the corner at him. “You can’t just move things like that with science! Science is dumb!”

To emphasize his point, the little troll pounded on the door with one balled up hand. Much to his surprise, the door actually swung open - whether he’d opened it unconsciously with his powers, or whether Ornbar hadn’t shut it properly, he didn’t know, but he didn’t care. He was already worked up; his temper was much shorter than his twin’s, and he was ever slightly bigger and definitely more active than Ornbar - since most of what his brother did involved reading and sitting around - and this often led to, well …

Narwan lept at his twin, grappling with him and punching him in the arm.

“You take it back! Magic is real! Magic is real and my stories aren’t for grubs and my hair is fine and you’re a big dumb stupid grub Ornbar!”

Ornbar had still been looking for the iron as he turned an ear toward his sister - his sister who wasn’t dressed appropriately today, who was loud and sometimes not his sister, who grew her hair too long for the styles she tended to select for it.

“At least my books aren’t made-up, Narwhiiine!” Ornbar called in quick-witted response. “They’ve got science, and facts, and hypoth’ses, like - like Willam Nyehhh and not like Jokath Rollin and her stupid spells and professors and love magic!” Ornbar would admit - if grudgingly - that the works of literature by Rollin concerning the Troll Who Lived and his hatefriends at that silly magic “school” (who would want to learn from adults when you could go to schoolfeeding and learn from glorious, glorious books instead?) were at least entertaining, but they couldn’t quite compare to Willam Nyehh and his sheer genius. The Science Troll would always be superior to the Troll Who Lived, and that was that.

“And I shut it with physics manipulation, you...you girl!” Ornbar’s back was turned to the door as he spoke, and he’d been confident that he’d shut the door properly - and, conveniently for Narwan, Ornbar’s own voice masked the sound of his sister’s entrance. And he certainly wasn’t prepared for his sister to come in and take ahold of his arm just as he reached for that iron...

“Hey! Stop it, Narwan, that’s not - auuuuugh you got my elbow!” Ornbar screeched, briefly, and then he remembered that he was supposed to be dignified. Highblooded. He shut his eyes, and then used his physics manipulation to grapple for the nearest - well, it was a pair of shorts, but it’d do just fine as a blunt object. Maybe.

Maybe if he dropped it on her - but now he couldn’t see, either, because it had landed on both of them (ugh - he didn’t know how he’d forgotten they were so close together) and his elbow still hurt.

It was at that point that their lusus scuttled in. “Now, now, boys - we can’t go to the library if you can’t get along...” They were in for a long lecture...