I am going to murder every crab

And, just like last year, there’s a knock at Glitchy’s room door, though sometime after dinnertime. Should he peer outside, he’ll find a long, rod-like object amusingly wrapped (sort of) in dark blue paper that’s been decorated in stars, not at all concealing what it’s supposed to be – at least an attempt was made. He’ll also find a white cardboard box along the lines of what could be used for pastries, though it’s void of any bakery markings.

The rod (because what else could it be?) is a sturdy yet ornate weapon of Hingan design; though it doesn’t radiate the aether that Glitchy uses to cast spells quickly, it still holds a considerate amount of power, with exquisite craftsmanship that could weather his void-corrupted aether. Depending on how long he spends examining it, he might find the signature markings belonging to a certain silver-haired guildmate.

The cake inside the box is a little lopsided, with a serviceable at best job at icing and decorating the multi-tiered confection. Despite appearances, if Glitchy were to taste it, he’d find it quite good.

As with last year, there’s a small card. “Happy nameday, mate.” There’s no signature.

At that point, the practically nocturnal lalafell was just about beginning his day, trying to will himself into forsaking the warmth of his bed when he heard the knock at his door. There, beneath the blankets, he froze, waiting to see if whoever it was truly wanted to barge in. When nothing more came, he rolled out of bed and hurriedly bundled himself up to hide the unwilling alterations his little guest had forced upon him. That done, he opened his door a crack and peered out into the hallway.

Two packages, both of which were hastily dragged into his room before the door was shut behind him. The rod (he would recognize the shape of one anywhere, even through an especially shoddy wrapping job) was the first to be examined. Easily stripping the paper from around it, he looked it over with the scrutinizing gaze of an experienced mage. While it wouldn’t be as quick as his current favorite, it was still quite a powerful staff with excellent craftsmanship besides... and the all-too familiar signature carved into it didn’t escape his attention either.

The cake was next and, while it certainly looked... not so great, a quick swipe of some icing proved that it was just the appearance that was less than satisfactory. Clearly homemade; no bakery he knew would have allowed such a cake to leave their store.

Last was the card, attached to the box containing the cake. Though there was no signature, he knew all-too well who had written it based on the handwriting and language used and his gaze softened as it ran over that single, short sentence.

A slow blink, and a shrug. A weirdo with a weird name. What a surprise. “Glitchy…” she mumbled, trying to figure out if it had some sort of meaning, if any. No way he was born with a name like that. Surely he must’ve chosen it for a reason. Glitchy… Litchy… Lich? If he was indeed a thaumaturge, he would seem like the type to consort with liches and other undead creatures. She could already imagine him, one of the mages robed in black, cackling together about whatever horrors they could find in one the guild’s many books. He’d fit right in.

“Litchy it is, then.” Oh yes, she was absolutely mispronouncing that on purpose. If he was going to be a nuisance to her, she might as well return the favor. “Better keep up if you don’t want to miss the show!” A grin, and there she went, the magicks of the darkside clearly visible in the moonlight as the plunged into the nearest water serpent she could find.

Oh, now that actually managed to get a rise out of him. If there was anything that was bound to annoy him, it was someone purposefully disrespecting him and butchering his name like that was most certainly a sign of disrespect. Sure, he may occasionally huddle together with the other thaumaturges and mutter gleefully about some breakthrough he made by looking through the guild's older tomes, but that didn't make him a lich! Granted, he certainly wouldn't mind being a lich, but he would be called one under his terms, dammit!

She gave another sigh. Yup, a total weirdo. Oh well. At least he wasn’t foolish enough to disregard her demands. And maybe, just maybe, having a witness would help keep her in check, if only a little bit. The girl picked her rice hat back up and tied the ribbon under her chin, making sure it would not fall off during battle. She was about to head off, assuming the mage would follow her, but something made her pause. Yes, she’d already allowed this busybody to watch her fight, but… A nervous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. It didn’t feel right. What if he’d only got more curious from watching? What if he’d start asking around about her? Found out who she was? She bit her lip. That’d be a worst case scenario. Of course, she could turn her sword on him if he did… But she really did not want to kill anyone. Perhaps if she gave him something, a little bit of trust, his curiosity would be sated. Steeling herself, she looked him in the eye again. “It’s decided, then. Make sure not to get in my way if you fancy breathing.”

A rather uncharacteristic grin appeared on her face. “I jest, of course. But really, be careful. Wouldn’t accidentally want to get impaled.” She shook her head.

“The name’s Rue, by the way. And yours would be…?”

If she knew his name, that’d at least be something she could use against him, just in case. Rue… Not a Lalafellin name, but good enough for a false one. It suited her. After all, she regretted every moment spent as a wielder of the dark arts. Might as well distance herself from it entirely through the use of another name. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she could practically hear Fray laughing at her, but she chose to tune it out.

Oh, he certainly didn’t need the reminder to keep out of the frontlines. Though his little voidsent friend had given him quite a bit more sturdiness than he had before, (at the cost of some traits of mortality, but honestly, who cared about those?) old habits died hard. Being of the squishy magic user sort, he was accustomed to hanging back to avoid a myriad of dangers that may come his way.

Still, he had to appreciate that morbid sense of humor that not many others seemed to embrace.

However, when she offered her name, he didn’t show any surprise if he felt any. The name he went by since he moved to this land was a far cry from the traditional Lalafell naming convention, so why would he be surprised by another who had chosen to forsake it as well?

Take it here

Tagged by: @spiritedwomen

Applause? After she had let herself go like that? It was the last thing she deserved. An embarrassment to the gods themselves, that’s what she was.

“Please, just stop,” she motioned, shaking her head. “It’s not as fun as it seems.” Alright, that was a lie.  When she was fighting like that, it was fun. To not have to care or to worry. About expectations. About doing her best. But the shame that came afterward always made it worse.

A sigh. “You’re a real weirdo, you know that, right?” She squinted. “Your expression would be more suited to a man entering an Ul’dahn pillowhouse than someone who just witnessed all this carnage.”

Her fingers longed to reach for her sword again. The darkside was not sated yet. And it was clear that though the visitor said he’d ask no more questions, he was still going to watch. Too curious for his own good. She took a look at the sky. Judging by the moon that was starting to set, she’d have a bell, maybe two.

“But fine. I’ll indulge you just for tonight. I’ll fight. You can watch. Write down stuff about your weird magic fetish for all I care. But as soon as the sun rises, I’m gone. And you will Not. Follow. Me.

Understood?”

Oh, there was another person who decided to compare his bloodlust to one seeking carnal pleasures. Sure, he may have a bit of zeal for carnage and magical methods of causing it, but did that really mean everyone had to insist that he got off on it or anything uncouth like that?

Honestly, some people these days.

Of course, those disapproving thoughts remained as such; he knew this person was wary enough of him that the fact he was still here was a small miracle. No sense in pushing his luck by trying to insist that he wasn't interested in this fascinating magic for that reason.

Her ultimatum, however, was met with silence for a few, brief moments as he thought it over. Certainly, she would turn her sword on him if he was to agree, then go back on his word... but she said nothing about him just happening to run into her on subsequent nights.

No matter how angry and frustrated she could be as a Dark Knight, Nenela never really wanted to hurt anyone. Even now she couldn’t stop herself from offering help, knowing it would likely make her even more grumpy. It was her own fault for not considering his feelings.

A deep sigh.

“Fine.”

But first, she’d need an enemy. The place she had chosen to rest was rather secluded, but a short distance away she could sense the presence of some water sprites. Nothing fancy, but it’d do the trick.

With a swift plunge, her sword cleaved through the water. The sprite barely seemed to be hurt by it. She slashed and swiped, and as she did so, the aura that enveloped her started to burn brighter. Sparks danced on her blade as it sliced the air. Her face was serious, yet full of barely contained anger. Her eyes flashed and for a moment she rose up in the air as if possessed, before bringing her sword down in a blaze of fury.  

With a wave of her hand, she absorbed… well, something from the sprite. It lingered on her fingertips, before she shoved it into her chest. Her eyes refocused, but she had not yet calmed down. Another sprite? What about a water serpent? Rip the feathers off the hornbills that were seeking a momentary respite at the edge of the river?

She was about to turn around when she remembered. Right. She had a guest. Resheathing her sword, she turned back to him.

“Is this enough to satisfy your curiosity?”

He eagerly watched her in action and, not far into her assault, it was obvious that he was in complete and utter awe. While the fancy swordwork itself wasn't too impressive to him—he never was much of a fan of more brute tactics like that—the magic was another thing entirely.

The shower of sparks from the blade that could never have been produced in such a way by mere physics, the levitation, the absorption of some type of energy (Aether? Perhaps something more nebulous as the soul?), all of it had his mind reeling at the possibilities that could come about from utilizing such things.

Continued from here

The usual wide-brimmed hat he wore had been discarded, exposing light-sensitive, sickly blue eyes that squinted at this stranger. His head tilted up so his mouth could be seen over the high collar of his robe, lips twisted into a sneer that reveal sharp, shark-like teeth.

His possession had given him a cockiness even worse than what it already had been and, in the event his true nature was revealed, he would goad practically any potential threat that stood before him.

He had seen what the voidsent had done to his body; both mortal and even immortal threats didn’t faze him after that.

Now she was starting to get upset as well. Had she really scared him that much? This was exactly why she went out of her way to hide her dark knight persona from others. No matter what, she’d always end up hurting them, whether by sword or by words. The thought that the other Lalafell wasn’t actually scared or offended didn’t even cross her mind.

“I’m really, genuinely sorry!” A sigh. She really shouldn’t be doing this, but… “…Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting her to take him seriously. He was a stranger who approached her out of the blue when she clearly wanted to be left to her own devices, after all. Besides, he usually wasn’t taken seriously even when he obviously didn’t have a fake huffy tone put on, so having her actually apologize to him surprised him and he was even going to tell her that she needn’t do that... until she asked if there was anything she could do to make up for it.

Oh boy.

That was a surprise, to say the least. Where first Nenela had assumed he was another nuisance, yet another person asking for her skills when was clearly not in the mood, now he seemed… more like a kindred spirit? Someone who’d seek out someone who might be in trouble to try to help them. At least, that’s how she interpreted it. And now she had frightened the poor guy… Perhaps it would be alright to let her guard down somewhat.

“Hey now, I never meant to kill you… I’d never do that! I just wanted to… scare you a little,” she said, her voice taking on a more soothing tone. 

“Look, I’m okay. Everything’s fine. I’m just doing my thing out here and I don’t need any help.”

As an act of goodwill, she loosened the ribbon on her hat and let it fall to the ground.

“See? I’m not scary at all, I promise.”

Well... that interpretation was close enough. In reality, Glitchy would be more likely to cause trouble than to help solve it, but at least he certainly wouldn't be looking for her skills-he was far too proud of his own to ask for aid except under the most dire of circumstances.

In response to her attempt to soothe him, he huffed in a manner far more dramatic than was necessary and turned what little nose he had up in the air, facing away from her.

What a baby.