SON OF BARBARA.

i’m not gonna be here to do replies / talk on ims (though you might see me reblog aes / musing stuff or lurk) over the weekend ‘cause I got stuff to do that i’ve been putting off (not Bad stuff) and I really need to get my arse into gear to be productive.

short starter: ok but this puts too much pressure on the other person to pick up the slack or make them engage you when you were supposed to engage them especially if it’s not just simple character interaction

long starter: ok but if you were going to pull a plot from your ass why didnt you consult the other person first because this inherently could be a form of godmodding or leading or trying to control the entire thread

He’d heard the rumours, of course. How exaggerated they were, he didn’t know. But there was a collector, to put it nicely. Of fine things -- treasures. Not quite unlike Gatto, but, Jim prayed this antiquarian (was it right to call her as such?) did not keep her valuables stashed in her belly. Or that she was not literally mountain-sized.

The Eye of Gunmar was a lost relic. A lost treasure, one could say. Stolen out from the Krubera’s guard. If Gatto didn’t have it, then perhaps it ended up in her hands instead. It was the most logical place to start, aside from a blind, wild hunt.

So he’d gotten NotEnrique to spread rumours within the circle of changelings still believing he was working as a mole about the Trollhunter wanting to meet with her. That he had something extraordinarily valuable he’d be willing to part with. After all, who could resist the Amulet of Merlin equipped with the Birthstone and Killstone already?

Jim waited at the meeting place -- a secluded, shaded area of the forest, away from prying eyes -- and hoped that she could not.

Still, Blinky’s library was a welcome sight to sore eyes in Trollmarket. Once he’d stepped into the area proper, he peeled off Merlin’s broach from his armour and let it disperse back into the artefact. He felt like he had to walk around the market in it, similar to how a police officer wears a uniform. Metal, no matter how much forged from pure light, was heavy.

Jim was alone for a change, which was a rarity. Claire was pre-occupied with some community event that her mother dragged her to because of the campaign and Toby had his scheduled dentist’s appointment. The Trollhunter was left to fend for himself.

Not entirely himself. He offered a short smile to his mentor, sinking to the floor where the multiple book stacks lay, it might as well have been a throne.

“You should tell me now if there’s anything more dangerous in the world than Gunmar, because I’m going to be pretty beat after we’ve dealt with him.” A pause. “But.. first things first, I guess. We’ve still got Strickler and Rot to worry about..”

“Trolls?”

He hadn’t expected it.

What to say. Every day that passed, he would get closer to learning about Killahead Bridge. Every day he was Trollhunter, he would get closer to knowing about Gunmar, Gumms-Gumms, changelings—and one wrong move, by him or anyone else, and Jim would know that in the dead of night when everyone slept, blissfully unaware, his own teacher had glowing yellow eyes, horns, and a starved warlord aching to break free. 

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Jim expected many things after the exclaimed repetition of ‘Trolls?’ left his teacher’s lips. A strong affirmation that he would go directly to his mother about it, an utterance of disbelief and ridicule, yet none of that compared to the hopeful one that he had centered in his mind: Understanding.

He released a slow exhale of breath he didn’t realize he was holding when it appeared that Strickler seemed to.. believe him. If not the supernatural existence of trolls -- but the fact there was very real stress and pressure on him. His body looked like it deflated with the minor relief. He had to admit, there was a childish part of him that thought the world would’ve imploded the second he revealed ‘The Secret.’

Jim felt the need to still add in; “ -- You know I’m not being, like.. metaphorical, right? There are actual, literal, trolls.” Yes, he’d made that point quite clear, any louder and certainly the loitering students outside the class would’ve heard. But he knew if anyone had come to him about such a thing, before the amulet, he’d have thought them, well. Over-stressed.

“In any case.. even if I am overwhelmed or have other obligations, the relevance escapes them.” To quote Blinky, he thinks. “ -- I mean, I do what I can and I’m trying. I’m really trying -- but I.. I think my best is not enough and I’m going to end up..”

What had happened to ‘the dog ate my homework’, or ‘I found money on the floor and went to buy ice-cream’ as excuses? Not that the girl approved of either, but they couldn’t exactly be upfront about all the troll business.

Claire watches the changes in his expression with interest, a smile on her face.“I think Arcadia has enough going on. The Bratva might be a bit too much to handle,” she says, her hand gently resting on the boy’s forearm. “How about you just say I asked you to help me with my lines for this year’s play?”

“You think so?” he asked, tone trying to pass off as innocent and full of genuine curiosity, when he knew it was full of cheek. His hand instinctively raised to settle over her own, thumb slipping under to her palm and squeezing very gently. His hands were warm and rougher than he’d liked, but he was still soft in his actions. “Y’think the Bratva’s the straw that’d break the camels back? I mean, Arcadia’s survived Bular. Angor Rot.”

Jim shuffled just a touch closer to her. Just a smidgen. It was weird to think that all they had gone through, he was still so shy and bashful about her. But how could he help it? She was just.. perfect. He cleared his throat, a light flush settling over his cheeks.