Out of my hive.

Now that I think about it do we have any lime/olive/jade/blue/cerulean bloods in here Asking for no reason whatsoever

—encycloPillarist sent plutonPlunder file38697.doc— —encycloPillarist sent plutonPlunder file38698.doc— —encycloPillarist sent plutonPlunder file38699.doc— *As those files load for the purple-blooded troll, Neadul's still trying to search for the rest of the documents - to no avail. Looks like she'll have to research again. She wouldn't complain if it didn't mean making a Subjugglator of all people wait.* [EP]: << I hope it is of chewse for the Chawrch in spite of this inconvenience. [EP]: << I will attempt to find the missing pages as soon as possible. Once again, my deepest apologies. *Dreaded question, but alas, noblesse oblige.* [EP]: << Is there anything else I can do for you, your Highness?

*Ugh… Subjugglators. Brute and sadistic; a lovely reminder that power shouldn’t be given to someone just because of their blood color. That among a lot of other reasons, really.*[EP]: « Greetings, your Highness.[EP]: « I am doing well, thank you.[EP]: « In regard to the aforementioned items, I beg you to give me a minute or tchew if that is gnawt an inconvenience.*Several minutes pass after said message. She thanks the Sufferer PP can’t see the somewhat distressed expression on her face when she comes back.*[EP] « I am deeply ashamed of abchewsing your generosity, sir, but…[EP] « May I be given a nibble more time?[EP] « I am currently having difficulties finding some of essaid dochewments.*So help her if her fucking lusus had anything to do with this. The last thing she needs right now are psychotic clowns at her door.*[EP] « I could send you the ones I have, if you so wish, your Highness.

Changing some things on her design

*On contrast, as soon as she heard the characteristic sound of Trollian, Neadul's quick to switch computers to see who it is (despite the possibility it might just be her ex-moirail bothering her again). The anxiety quickly becomes relief... And then concern as she reads on. The fact they lost isn't surprising to her. Not just because she didn't trust this revolution's efficiency all that much to begin with nor out of pessimism, but she's always been the passive kind. According to what she read about the Sufferer, it didn't work then and it wouldn't work now. Basically, just accepting things the way they are. The archivist's aware that her fellow lowblood doesn't want to hear that, however. The way he drops his quirk and types worse than usual just tells her that much.* [EP]: << I'm sincerely sorry to hear, Wallah. [EP]: << And you don't need to apologize. You and many other lowbloods have gone through quite a lot. *She's not sure what else to say. Perhaps there is a way to help, instead - but she thinks hard about this one.* [EP]: << Perhaps I could offer you and whoever else's alive a way to hide from the highbloods. [EP]: << If you all are capable of keeping a secret. *Though she wouldn't like this. Even still, their safety's more important than her comfort.*

You have the feeling you know who's to blame for that. Rather, who are. You know, assuming there is anybody to blame anymore. ... You should contact someone about it.

Real ugly, probably. ... You also think you're forgetting why it's "getting real". Huh. Well, it's probably nothing important or nothing that would kill anybody.

Wait, you already did that. As a consequence, your lusus got sad and crawled out of your hive. You stare at all the ruined material scattered on the floor and predict this is going to be a long night.

You got your job done early and nobody's messaging you. You decide to make use of your free time to review the progress of 3 of your fanfiction. One of them is about Fiduspawn. True, you dropped it long ago, yet you can't help but imagine alternative universes with different characters. The second one --also Fiduspawn-- was created out of nowhere and still doesn't have an specific goal. You're trying to practice writing spontaneity with this one. And last but not least... Actually, this one is a remake. You remember you once mixed Fiduspawn, FLARP and other things in one big fan mash-up, resulting in the most horrifying blasphemy your fingers could have ever typed. You wrote it down with your old quirk and everything. Uuuugh. That thing needed a complete remake, period. Out of caution, every fanfiction is created in the same computer you use to collect data. You don't want to accidentally send some old-ass fic to someone via Trollian. You wish you hadn't learned from experience.

As usual. But you had enough time to figure that if he won't stop bugging you when you ask in a (relatively) polite manner, you'll make him stop. At least he couldn't say you didn't warn him.