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 Posted: Thu Sep 06, 2012 2:02 am
Alifax didn't venture into the city often, it was true. But he was finding it considerably more difficult to hunt now that he was trapped, and in a tiny, wriggler-like body, no less. And these days - well, these days Flambe was just too lazy.
So it was with reluctance that he'd dug into his savings (they were supposed to be for FLARP manuals, not food) and taken a hike all the way down to New Hemisect City in search of a place that'd deign to serve redbloods. Not a consumption establishment, obviously - he wasn't anywhere near highblooded enough to go somewhere he could sit down and buy meat for food. But a grocery store - yes. He'd have to - ick - buy vegetables.
He was sidetracked, though, by a wriggler (out without its lusus?) who was...painting. On an easel. By the sidewalk.
If he'd been in his right mind, he'd have noticed the indigo symbol on the guy's shirt and immediately tried to blend into a crowd. But he wasn't in his right mind; he was in his wriggler-hood mind. And his wriggler-hood mind was more curious than it had a right to be, and had spotted reds and oranges on the troll's clothing and assumed that they represented the troll's blood caste.
"What...are you doing here without your lusus, painting, no less?" he asked, forgetting momentarily that he seemed to be a wriggler himself, and that he, too, had gone without Flambedad. "...oh! Um, sorry, highblood," he added, quickly, upon finally (finally!) noticing the other troll's symbol.
Oh no oh no what if the kid's lusus was hanging around? Could Alifax hide somewhere?
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Posted: Fri Sep 07, 2012 9:47 pm
The first few days Mofein had moped around. He had spent a number of sweeps as a wrigger already, so why did someone want to subject him back to wriggler-hood a second time?! Staying in the hive had suited him perfectly for the first couple of days. Mofein had always been a bit lazy, but even lazier as a wriggler. But by the time the third day slowly rolled around, the highblood rolled around the floor of the hive while staring at his lusus. “Hey, what do I doOoOoOo?” he called out in a drawl, but the snake-plant lusus only responded in soft hisses.
“That’s not helpful at aAaAaAall,” whined the troll as he eventually rolled onto his stomach with his face pressed to the floor. His caretaker continued to hiss until Mofein suddenly shot up from the ground and pressed his fist against the palm of his other hand. “That’s it! I’ll go to the city and paint something.” He expectantly looked toward his lusus, which flailed from side to side while hissing angrily. “What? Fine! I didn’t want to paint you anyways.” Huffing, the troll made his way out of the hive with a giant easel and paints in his tiny hands. He should have dragged his lusus out with him—technically he was a wriggler again—but technically he wasn’t a wriggler. Technically.
Huffing, Mofein stomped through the streets while his boots clacked softly against the ground until he decided on a random spot to plant his canvas. It didn’t take the highblood long until there was a voice behind him. “Hmmmmmmm?” he lazily hummed as he craned his neck toward Alifax. “Cause I caAaAan,” he answered with a laidback grin before he went back to his canvas, a brush coated with bright purple clutched tightly in his hand. Mofein only glanced at the dark red splashed across the other troll’s clothes, but he was already missing colors together to form a similar shade of red to spread across the canvas. “WhateveEeEer. Don’t need to call me that. Can call me Mofein instead. Mmhmmmm.” Was someone too lazy to speak in proper sentences? Absolutely.
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Posted: Mon Jan 14, 2013 2:16 am
"Well, that's, ah, something you're certainly welcome to do, hi - highblood." Alifax was wary of dropping the honorific even when he'd been explicitly instructed to do so: he had yet to call Hazzan solely by her given name, either, and she was always telling him to do that. He'd kind of already given in through his thoughts, though - it was really difficult to call both his story-FLARPing friends "highblood" in his inner monologue.
He watched disinterestedly as the other troll mixed colors on his palette. He...hadn't realized grub blood blended so smoothly, actually. Not that he consumed it often; it was rather expensive for something so widely available. "Ah, I can leave to ensure you...paint...in peace, if that's preferable," Alifax told the little highblood wiggler, although Mofein had made no indications that he desired that. That smile was dangerous. Those teeth were dangerous, even though Alifax could probably best any wiggler. Maybe. If they didn't have too many supernatural abilities on their side.
He hadn't tried fighting now that he was young again, actually. He'd have to do that - his meteors had felt awkwardly big in his wigglerhood hands, and the strange balance had put him off his routine this evening. But he still had his fire, which he hadn't had as a wiggler (or, he'd had it, but not reliably and controllably enough for it to really count - he still remembered that burned down building with a wince), and he had considerably more experience than any troll three or four sweeps old did.
Maybe this could be an opportunity. "Was your lusus...ah, incapacitated?"
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