Meta-inspired PRP.
Word of the failed delivery drone had spread to even the furthest reaches of the swamp, and Bracks was quick to be on his way to make it to the unveiling party. Atop his Poppa's back, the two sped forward; gliding through the water post-haste. Bracks had convinced his Poppadile with just a single sentence- it could be food- and off they had gone.
When they'd arrived, and the crates had been cracked open, Bracks' brows had quirked in question. He was disappointed, to say the least. Poppadile, even moreso. Both of them seemed especially gloomy, though Bracks still meandered forward and swiped one of the robogrubs for his own. Poppa regarded it with a growl, and swam away from the rope ladder Bracks was standing on- unwilling to be anywhere near the metallic monstrosity. Bracks huffed and stomped his foot.
"Not. Food." Poppadile said gruffly. He was angry that his son's guess had been wrong. "Leave. Now."
He glared at the grub and Bracks knew his lusus didn't want him to take it. Still, the yellowblood had already decided it would be his and thus- it was. He clutched the heavy robot to his chest, unwilling to part with it.
Then, before he could begin to beg Poppadile to let him keep it, the small troll's attention was caught by the sudden bright zap of energy in his peripheral.
"What the muck?" He yelled as he whipped around to face the troll that was the cause of the momentary display of sparks. "How'd you do that, huh?" He stared at the other rebel in awe. "Do it again!" He demanded.
leon_a_darkangel