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Afryse stumbled into the Chittentown library and breathed out a sigh of relief. Even in the dead of night, the ambient heat that rose from the sand after taking the suns beams all day was unbearable. For a troll who wanted to be warm, to feel overly hot... That was something. It was probably thanks to the sudden surge of buildings cropping up. All those refugees from Old Hemi... Er... Whatever it was called now. Afryse couldn't recall, and at the moment his head ached too much to really want to think on it. Grumbling softly, he continued to walk, Witikodad shambling behind him like a low moving rug of joints and grunts. What had he been thinking about? Oh, right. The buildings were imposing and thrown together, sometime too haphazardly that they crashed and crumbled. Between the walls and foundations of those that remained, the heat was trapped and couldn't fade in the night air. Now everything was simply too hot. Much, much too hot.

Despite the coolness of the library, not a troll was around to talk. If they were in the library, they didn't make eye contact and sat in huddled heaps, hunched over books. Afryse scoffed and took to exploring the stacks. Gently the tips of his fingers wisped over the spines, feeling the textures as the scent of sweat, paper, and ink mixed in with dust and sand eased his weariness. It was soothing, the normalcy of the books and the large bookcases.

He had been so alone lately. Too busy getting healed and calming Witikodad after that event with the stalls. He hadn't forgiven his charge for the clear discretion of their credo. Still, he hadn't gotten mad enough to hit him... Yet. Sighing, the troll grabbed two books at random and sulked off to an open sitting area. Dropping into a seat, Witiko scrambled below the table and rested. At least here, Afryse could see if anyone interesting was going to come by. By interesting he meant anyone that didn't look half dead from the heat, starvation, or poverty.

Idly thumbing through the pages of the book, Afryse allowed his thoughts to wander. With so much heat and the coolness of the library, why was it so devoid of life? Surely, the town was thriving. A little too much, if you asked the snow troll. So why in the world did it feel like a ghost town in the library? Maybe they were in a secret meeting somewhere? Preposterous.

While the book had started dull, he quickly became engrossed with the topic. So much so that when Hemera approached, it wasn't until she spoke that he even noticed. Jolting in surprise, the troll's expression quickly evened into a dull gaze of boredom and placidity. What? Well it didn't last long. Afryse comically frowned, his lips partially parted as he tried to decipher what she was saying, "I... I'm sorry? You are who, exactly?" The fashion police?

The question hit a bit too close to home. Every now and then a bold soul would ask about the ensemble, but few ventured so far as to ask if the troll wasn't from around here. "As a matter of fact I have lived in Chittentown for many months now." He replied with a calm air of indifference, the confused annoyance settling down below his control.

He made no move to close the book, hoping that perhaps leaving it open would give the girl the hint to scram, "Are you from around here? You're quite the high blood to be associating in a rustblood slum." There was a hint of dry sarcasm in the words, woven around a tang of bitterness. It wasn't always a slum. Thanks, Rebels.

Upset the balance? Come again? A small twitch at the corner of his lips broke the illusion of complete indifference to Hemera's soliloquy. "The mountains." Afryse monotoned back as his fingers tapped out a hidden beat on the pages of the open book. This teal blood was very strange. Technically a high blood, but living in one of the most remote places on Alternia? There must be a reason, no one would willing want to live in the mountains unless they felt it necessary.

"Well, I'm certain the folk who lived in Civisect did not see their home in such bleak terms. Of course, the highbloods oppressed by the eyesore could care less what rustbloods feel." Afryse's fingers stilled on the pages, his ire rising higher, "It's terrible though that trolls displaced from their long terms homes would be prejudiced against you, who come only to take advantage of our splendid library."

Afyrse feigned a pitying frown, "Perhaps if you joined the... 'toughing through it' you would be more welcome? The mountains seems like such a desolate place to live for a social troll like you."

At the question of the book, he flipped the book closed and turned to display the title. True to Alternian fashion it was ridiculously long and complex, but boiled down to the great sculptors of Alternia, "I enjoy sculpting."

Not many highbloods would have excused Afryse's barely veiled mocking. Further few would weather the storm of accusation, and deflect it by affirming they did nothing wrong. There was something about that strength that sent the trolls defenses up, his face becoming smooth and calm again as he watched the angry troll across the table closely. Nothing wrong, but nothing right either...

But I did nothing during the water shortage, other than pillage. Am I better than those that destroyed the city, actively or inactively? A faint frown pulled at his lips as the troll gazed back at the closed cover of the book. On the front was a picture of Troll Venus. Afryse's finger idly traced the outline of the grey marble as he listened to Hemera. So, she knew about art? More so than to just be taking it from nowhere.

Despite his desire to stay angry at the tealblood for her complete and utter arrogance, art was a soft spot for Afryse. A way to calm the raging tide below his icy exterior. Breathing in deeply, the ice troll allowed it to slide slowly from his lungs, "Yes, the detailing on most works of art are stupendous. Especially the look of folds. Have you ever seen how they emulate gossamuer folded and lying in marble?" To emphasize, he opened the book again and flipped back to where he had been looking. It was a chunk of pages in glossy photo paper. After thumbing across a couple, he turned the book to Hemera in full so she could see the picture.

Finally he broke his gaze at the book and looked up at Hemera, "Do you enjoy other art forms? I prefer sculpture, but art in general is gorgeous." A faint chill ran down his body, making the troll shudder. Underneath the table Witikodad grumbled, a sound something like raw wind and bones tumbling against rock. Reaching out with a booted foot, he stroked the Lusus' back. The sound subsided as the creature returned to sleep.

There was something bugging Afryse about Hemera, but he could not yet put his finger upon it. Something to do with the Mountain.

"My Lusus," Afryse responded in a calm even tone, and returned to looking at the book. She did like art, and her responses were well composed. What was it that nagged at the back of Afryse's mind. Something about the mountains. She came from the mountains. Why was that so important?

It was the faint coldness, probably from the air conditioner, that made the ideas snap together. Afryse looked at Mera sharply, his eyes scrutinizing her outfit, "You live in the mountains, yes? Your clothing... Isn't exactly adequate for having come from there." Maybe he was grasping at straws, but Afryse could tell this was what was bugging him.

"My name is Afryse." He stated abruptly.

She was right. What was he getting at? He shook his head and sighed softly, "I... You're probably right. It just seems unbearably cold up there."

It might have seemed like an abrupt mood swing to go from being pissed at Hemera to more tolerant, but the ice troll had never been one with good control on his emotions. Witikodad was similar. One second the lusus could be pleased as punch, the next hissing and snarling. She doesn't need to know that.

"Mera... Yes, I bet the others are not as prepared. Most that live in the mountain want solitude and respite from society. I imagine they are not..." He searched for the word before clicking his tongue in derision, "Damn. Prepared? Adjusted. There we are. Adjusted to life in troll society."

For a moment he remained quiet and thought, really thought. Afryse... wanted friends. He loved friends. A high blood, though? That seemed stupid. They were violent and prone to antics. This one was already too arrogant for the ice trolls taste. Then again... He hadn't liked Voscil first time either. And look at Zindel. He had been a lowblood troll that was worse than many highbloods he had met. Bloodcaste tells us about the individual. She should be dangerous, but...

"Do you make any art? I might have mentioned it, but I sculpt with ice and clay. It's very soothing."

The sound of it, with all the snow and the ice coldness, was just terrile. Afryse shuddered at the description and nearly muttered a happy glad I don't live there, but bit his tongue in the end. It was better to not be so forward... Especially with how he was dressed.

"I think snowtrolls count, yes." A rare smile pulled at his lips as he listened to her speak. She was interesting. Afryse had every intention to dislike her, but it was starting to get harder as the other spoke. Though the udden questioning about ice sculpting in the desert sent warning flags off in the troll's mind. Oh... He had truly opened a can of worms that he was not prepared to deal with, "Well you see I... I've been leaning towards realism but also in a bit of an impressionist wing. It mixes and matches. As for sculpting in the desert.. My Hive has multiple basements. The deeper down you go, the cooler it becomes. Plus the lowest level has water so it's very cold there and good for sculpting and keeping the sculptures. I don't really... Erm... Show them to others or have ever had the chance."

Ice and heat equaled melty. Although, Afrye reasoned, he could have taken them easily with his abilities, keeping them completely intact, "I like to make pots and dishes out of the clay, though. It's very enjoyable."

"It was a very big pain." Afryse sighed and shook his head, recalling the drones struggling to get the sand out and then to place in the bricks that comprised his home, "Thankfully our area had some harder stony spots so it wasn't like a giant sandbox... Completely." He shrugged. It was a child's right to make their home and Afryse knew he needed water.

"Yes, my father wanted me to have my own water supply so we had them dig until they hit a natural spring, which was much deeper than we had anticipated." Why am I telling her this? Oh well, no harm. He blinked at her next question and spoke with more caution.

"Keep them... But I have... thought about selling them." Extra beetles would be great, but there was little hope that Witikodad would let him sell something that was their's. Even if Afrye had made it, the lusus was the final verdict.