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The sun had just set over the jagged skyline of New Hemisect City, swallowing the stretching buildings in a rich magenta befitting a seadweller. It was a crystal clear night, and as the sky darkened, dozens upon dozens of stars began to fade into view; joined by the many twinkling windows of communal hivestems as the occupants stirred from their slumber. The crisp dusk air was refreshing even in the stifling metropolis, almost welcoming to early risers. Before long, trolls began to flit onto the city streets, and the bustle of the city began to return at a steady crawl.

On one particular street in a not-so-nice area of the city, a small crowd had collected, seemingly enthralled by some sort of street performance. There were intermittent gasps and delighted applause, with the occasional charmed samaritan stepping outside the semi circle to toss some beetles into the entertainer's collections. A few enchanted members of the audience clapped along with the dancer, keeping a steady beat to match his fluid movements. The name of this captivating creature? Zindel Tagino.


Only quite uneventful may post in this thread. Quote the mule when you're ready for the next prompt~

As the song's last note echoed down the narrow streets, the audience burst out into a small roar of applause. There were a few polite whistles, and more trolls stepping forward to toss some shiny beetles into the steadily growing pile. Tonight had been a whopping success for the small band of performers, given how early it was; but their audience soon dispersed as everyone was forced to return to their everyday lives and nightly obligations.

Still, a few trolls stayed, pleading with wide eyes for an encore. Crowding around the band, they fawned over the group, oozing praise and each proclaiming themselves the group's totally newest, number one fan. More beetles were dropped into the ever growing pot.

Off to the side two lowblooded children lingered sheepishly near a lamp post, watching from a distance. They couldn't have been more than a few sweeps old- but only only a lone lusus accompanied them, a small white primatebeast, wrapped around one of the troll's shoulders. They were both visibly covered in a layer of grime, and seemed to be almost glued to one another by their sticky little hands. The orangeblooded boy clutched a woven basket full of weeds that could have passed as flowers to an unsuspecting city troll, some woven into crude necklaces and bracelets that the pair had been attempting to peddle. Small looks of wonderment were painted across their dirty faces as they gazed at Zindel's troupe from afar, murmuring quietly to one another.

The two shyly approached the performers, both sets of lookstubs locked on the ground as they navigated the fantrolls. The taller girl reached into the basket, grabbing a fistful of weed-flowers before tossing them at Zindel's feet in a display of affection. The two had no beetles to offer. They flushed red and orange respectively, before scuttling off back to the safety of the lamp post to admire from afar.

Deeply absorbed in their whispered conversation about how they should have chosen weeds that complimented the dancer's colour, the children hadn't noticed Zindel beginning move towards them. Pointing, the primatebeast lusus let out a low screech of warning from his perch atop the redblood's shoulders before slapping his tail wildly against her back. The two whipped to attention, eyes wide, clutching even tighter to one another as they shrunk under his presence.

For a moment, they stood there silently gaping up at Zindel. Their awestruck expressions fell into ones of disbelief when he held out his hand, small faces scrunching as they both tried to register what he was offering. Growling quietly, the lusus bristled and pressed against the girl's cheek as she stalled. "U-uhmn..." Undeterred, unlike his companion, the smaller boy brightened again before reaching up to meet Zindel's hand. The redblood gently slapped it away.

"T-thank you, b-b-ut," the older girl stammered, patting her trembling lusus on the head. The orangeblood scowled up at her sourly through the corners of his eyes, nursing his hand. "The f-flowers were a... a... whassa word... a token, yeah, we c-couldn't take your earnins'." Shaking her head, she shuffled uncomfortably upon glancing down at her friend. The fistful of beetles was more than they had seen in weeks, and the weeds were pretty much garbage.

"B-besides they're not worth tha-"

"But I'm hungry, Neecha!" Interrupting, the boy tugged at her arm, mouth twisted into a sour pout. His urgency rose into a whine. "Why can't weeee?" The lusus angrily chittered under her hair.

"I-it's just--" Tripping over her words, Neecha swallowed hard, head bobbing as she looked between her friend and Zindel, at a loss of what to do.

The two children giggled at Zindels verbal slip. Neecha raised a dirt-smudged hand to try and cover her crooked smile, but the orangeblood wasn't half as tactful. Still, it wasn't laughter tainted with malicious intent; seeing their seemingly-graceful idol awkwardly stumble with his words was relatable, and it seemed to ease some of their jittery nerves.

"W-well..." Neecha's dark ringed eyes shiftily darted from Zindel's offering, up to his radiant face, and then back down at the beetles. She scrunched her nose contemplatively. The orangeblood gave her arm another squeeze, continuing to make a faint whining noise in the back of his throat.

"Okayyy," she finally submitted, but there was a long drawl of hesitation. Her lusus' distraught chittering rose, eliciting a slight pat from their charge. "But one day, w-we'll pay you back." Neecha first glanced down at her lusus, who had since fallen silent and pressed against her cheek to inwardly sulk, then at her friend, although her expression clearly left little room for debate.

"YEAH!" The orangeblood, who had been biting down on his lower lip eagerly, could no longer contain his outburst. "Like a inpestment!" Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he practically radiated glee at the promise of a hot meal that night. "Y-you mean an investment," Neecha corrected. "But yeah, t-think of it like one 'o those." Gingerly taking Zindel's earnings into her tiny, cupped hands, Neecha tucked them away into her pockets before looking back up at the dancer quizzically. "T-thanks?" It was unclear if she was thanking him for the beetles, or his whispered words of advice. The primatebeast arched their back and gave Zindel a low, sputtering growl in warning.

"Oh, don't worry! We're real good at runnin' away." The orangeblood chirped up and interrupted his friend's lusus, bending over to scoop up a stray beetle off the street. Neecha shuffled uncomfortably. "But are you tellin' us to stea-"

"Shhhh, Toutou." Neecha reached out to grab his hand, giving him a stern yank. "Of course not. He's giving us t-tips on when we should be out trying to sell stuff," And yet, the knowing look the redblood returned to Zindel spoke she understood otherwise. Toutou himself was easily placified, alternating between staring adoringly up at Zindel and down at the beetle he still clutched. "Thanks again, m-mister! We'll find you again when we have the cash, promise."

"MMMhm! Double barkbeast promise."

Hand in hand once more, the lowblooded children each gave Zindel a genuine, toothy grin and darted back into the grimy alleyways they had appeared from, buzzing with earnest conversation about their meal before bedtime that night.

Aside from the encounter with the lowblooded children, the rest of the evening remained quite uneventful and fairly routine for Zindel. The twin moons had peaked over the skyscrapers of New Hemisect, then dipped behind their stark silhouettes as it always had; plummeting the city into a peaceful, deep navy. Likewise, the troupe of artists Zindel performed with were scheduled to gather a second time that night, as they usually did when Zin's presence wasn't demanded elsewhere at his dance battles. Business had been booming earlier in the evening, so to speak- hopes were high for another copious haul of beetles. The hours had drawn out into the early morning, with much time to spare before dawn, and only the star of the show was absent in helping prepare for their street side concert.

"'Ey, Zin!" One of the dancer's band mates called out, returning the jovial wave. He placed the guitar he had been holding gently on a stand, turning to slide over beside Zindel. The other, an orangeblood, smiled and politely nodded in greeting, rubbing at their squawk blister. They hummed in low tones to themselves, warming up their voice. "We were just going to go grab something to drink before we started," the guitar player continued, gaining a nod of approval from their singer. "Can you watch our stuff? Won't be but a few minutes."

After some brief chit-chat the two musicians headed off to the nearest store, questing hydration for their singer's parched throat. Zindel was left to his own devices. Their set up was humble; a small rickety stool for the singer and guitar player to alternate using, treasured instrument propped up beside it. There was no microphone, no fancy sound equipment- just the tools of their trade. The guitarist's nimble fingers and strings, the singer's luring siren voice, and Zindel's graceful dance moves. They didn't need anything else to capture the attention of the public.

"HEY! You!" A voice cut out through the peaceful calm of the cool morning air. A blueblood with a white towel draped over one arm popped out of the stream of passersby, face creased and distorted with anger. He stomped over to close the gap between himself and Zindel, waving his free hand around feverishly above his head as he caterwauled. "You! YOU! I know you! You and your little friends are always taking up room on the corner in front of my legitimate establishment. You know business really suffers when you do that every other damned night?!" He had literally closed the gap between himself and Zindel, shoving an index finger roughly against the redblood's chest. Over and over. "It's all your fault!" He wailed. The restaurant was suffering. Business was sporadic. Poke poke poke. "Some nights you don't show your mangy little faces and it's like, incroyable! It's so peaceful and quiet, even though the restaurant is nearly packed. We're really raking in the beetles! I really hope it stays like this. But then you just show up the next night and ruin just everything. Do you know how much spoiled food I've had to toss because of the likes of you? How many dead 'midnight rushes'?" No no, his business management skills were immaculate. The towel on the blueblood's arm swayed slightly in the breeze, but the air was still.

The blueblood grabbed Zindel by the neck of his shirt, giving him a threatening shake. "I think you owe me some compensation."

"You think this is funny?!" He was blue in the face now, showering a fine mist of spit onto Zindel's face as he continued his enraged shrieking. "Don't give me that! DON'T! GIVE! ME! THAT!" Zindel was shook by the collar upon each syllable for punctuation. "Noooo, monsieur! No no! Not tonight! How gullible do you think I am? Did you not just hear me?! We're packed every night until your mangy little troupe comes around and blocks the doorway, distracting potential diners. WE HAVE FULL LENGTH WINDOWS," releasing Zindel with one hand, he waved wildly towards his restaurant. "I'VE SEEN IT. I'VE SEEN YOU. I've seen how much of an audience you draw in- basically enough to fill my usually-packed dining hall. Don't have anything- BAH!"

By now, more than a few curious onlookers had stopped to watch, murmuring among themselves.

"Do you even have a permit?! This is a busy street! You can't just go clogging it up with your... your... your riffraffian noise!" The blueblood's squawking had reached maximum volume by this point. He was quivering with rage, beads of sweat forming on his brow. "It's not just about money. It's... i-it's the principal of it all!!! Obstruction of business! SABOTAGERY!"

Lowering his voice, the troll drew Zindel in closer, voice dropping into a dangerous hiss. "You're going to give me all of your earnings from tonight, you hear? All of them." A flash twinkled in the blueblood's frenzied eyes. "Make that for the rest of this week. Or else. Do we have an understanding?"

"How dare you turn your sniffnode up at my offer!" The calm wrath that had taken the blueblood was as short lived as his offer to Zindel. Shrieking commenced. "After so graciously trying to work towards compromise with you?! This is why you miscreant lowbloods end up on the streets! No culture whatsoever. I don't care about your problems- just that you're one of mine! I have enough of my own! What, you think I don't have other trolls to pay?" He scrunched up his nose, peering scathingly down at Zindel.

"My patience-- my patience is at it's end!!! I WILL NOT BE PUSHED AROUND BY MANIPULATIVE SCOUNDRELS LIKE YOU A MOMENTS LONGER!!!"

The blueblood released Zindel, giving him a rough push backwards. Throwing out the arm draped with the supposed towel, he let out one final shriek. "ATTACK!"

The sheet of white coiled around the blueblood's arm, bounding off his flattened palm to launch itself at Zindel's face. With a wet slap, the lusus wrapped itself around the lowblood's head, effectively cutting off the majority of his senses- and breathing.

The world went dark for Zindel.