head empty only trolls

>> Without a word you release him- Though not the spectral threads holding him there- And sit back in your seat. The fact that he flushed very deeply does not go unnoticed by you, but you don't think he's got the mental faculties to try and illicit this response from you on purpose.

"Truly a simpleton."

>> You remark, your tone now dismissive. You wave a hand, at the same time releasing the spell holding his limbs.

You don't say anything else. What would you even say? You should be grateful you're getting out unscathed.

You also think there's nothing wrong with being simple, but you don't voice that thought because you literally just begged for your life and that's definitely not going to work twice.

As soon as the spell releases, you reach for your mask and put it back on. It covers your face, hiding whatever expression you're making, as well as your embarrassment.

You don't say anything else (for fear of betraying yourself, because you technically already told someone about the encounter) and leave the same way you entered. The main entrance's doors are too big for you to move.

>> Spectral threads form from the air and rope themselves around the troll's limbs, then snap taut. With a flick of your hand, you direct the threads to force him to move up the steps and fall to his knees in front of you.

>> You then lean to grab him by the jaw, your claws sharp enough to dig into his skin even through your gloves. Your expression is mostly flat, just a glimmer of anger in your eyes.

The pain that shoots through your knees makes you hiss in pain, and you nearly bite your tongue clean off from the impact. You let out a tiny whimper when his claws dig into the skin of your jaw, but say nothing. You're smart enough to know you need to shut the fuck up right now.

That's about the extent of your intelligence, though.

As he speaks, you feel your face turn a very deep shade of olive, and you have to look away because if you don't you might combust.

You are terrified, but under that fear is a very deep shame that you're also incredibly turned on. Something deep inside tells you you've just disappointed several people with that sentence alone.

It's easier to focus on his words if you don't look at him. It's like, if you can't see him then he can't see you're blushing despite the fact that he's threatening to kill you. Maybe you'd be better dead. You'd love to cover your face if it weren't because your arms are stuck to your sides.

Your ears flicker to show that you're listening, but otherwise remain down and pinned to your head. You do not think you've ever been so quiet in your life.

"I-I did not mean to antagonize-"

You bite your tongue. Correcting him seems antagonizing.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm sorry. I-I got too comfortable. It won't happen again. Please don't kill me. Please."

You have never been above begging.

With the palm-husk back in your, well, palms, you check that he has indeed not seen your messages with Srevni, and proceed to send several more in quick succession about how hot the dragon is and that you forgive them for almost getting you killed.

"Hmm, I do suppose storytelling is as old as civilization. I have found very cool artifacts that told stories after all, though it's always cooler when I take them to my buddy Herous, since he can see the memories of things."

You were going to say something more. But then he does actual magic and you're at a loss of words again. It's not that you don't believe in magic, after all you've retrieved all sorts of magical artifacts for all sorts of trolls. But you've definitely never seen someone use magic of this scale so... easily???

"That's sick! How did you do that? Is it like, part of the reason your blood burns? I actually have some scars from the last time we met, they look like a constellation almost."

You go to examine the dais, poking around, noticing how it is just as solid as everything else. This is really, really cool.

"No wonder you find me useless, you can just wave your hands and get shit done! What sort of knowledge are you looking for anyway? I could probably look for just about anything on this thing. Or we can get you like, a library card."

You wave the palm-husk around.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure."

>> You say with idle dismissiveness, trying to figure exactly what skills he might even be referring to. You guess being annoying could be considered a skill, and sufficiently advanced stupidity could too. You continue weaving a spell with your hand, though this one is slower- Making yourself a nice throne, though it won't appear until it's complete. You might as well, while you're in this form.

"I have spent no short while studying the weave of the world. With understanding of that, manipulating it is a simple task."

>> Those are understatements in the most severe sense of the word, but you don't really care to explain anything to him. You're the one seeking knowledge here.

"I am most interested in the advancements of modern technology, or anything else which is novel within the past, ah ... Six hundred sweeps or so."

>> Your new throne appears on the dais. Simple, made only of wood, but it is fine and ornately carved. You turn to start walking up the steps of the dais.

"As for your wish ... What is it that you imagine I am capable of, after witnessing a fraction of my ability?"

"Sounds complicated, but I have no real interest in magic so..."

You shrug.

"If it's about technology... We need to get electricity and internet in here, and then you'll benefit from having a husktop or a palm-husk, though I'm assuming you don't have anyone you can get in contact with, what with your... reserved demeanor."

You chuckle to yourself, though you are being a little too daring, considering you've relaxed all too much in the presence of a creature who could kill you with a wave of a hand.

"I imagine the learning curve would be a bit pronounced but I could give you classes."

You're being unserious. The new throne catches your attention, but this time you don't dare go near it, instead you walk around it. You've probably well past having pushed all the wrong buttons.

"You're like- ha- a 3D printer."

That probably doesn't make sense to him, but it doesn't have to. It's amusing to you.

"Mm. Well, I'm sure you can do very many great things."

You circle the throne, examining the carvings with great interest. This is the type of thing you do for a living, after all. How much would a throne like this fetch in the market?

"But... I don't think there's any sort of object or- magic show you could offer me that I would be interested in."

>> Then your gaze flicks back to him, no small amount of disdain in your burning eyes.

"I see little skill in anything at all here."

>> You go to hand him the palm-husk back, as it's lost interest to you now if all it's good for is images. Intriguing, but not useful to you.

"Theatre is far from novel, though I will not decline. Do take into consideration, if you bring me good volumes of pertinent knowledge, I will grant you a more grand wish."

>> While you speak you turn away from him to face the hall, lifting your hands to begin casting a spell, though briefly you glance back at him over your shoulder.

"Intrigue me. I believe you can manage that much."

>> Then you look back at what you were doing. You shift your hands, manipulating invisible threads of energy, and the hall shifts; The cracked stone repairs itself, small gaps sealing up. The windows become whole and unbroken, and lit sconces appear on the pillars, providing good light. The stone just next to the troll at the end of the hall raises up into a dais, though there's no throne there yet.

With the palm-husk back in your, well, palms, you check that he has indeed not seen your messages with Srevni, and proceed to send several more in quick succession about how hot the dragon is and that you forgive them for almost getting you killed.

"Hmm, I do suppose storytelling is as old as civilization. I have found very cool artifacts that told stories after all, though it's always cooler when I take them to my buddy Herous, since he can see the memories of things."

You were going to say something more. But then he does actual magic and you're at a loss of words again. It's not that you don't believe in magic, after all you've retrieved all sorts of magical artifacts for all sorts of trolls. But you've definitely never seen someone use magic of this scale so... easily???

"That's sick! How did you do that? Is it like, part of the reason your blood burns? I actually have some scars from the last time we met, they look like a constellation almost."

You go to examine the dais, poking around, noticing how it is just as solid as everything else. This is really, really cool.

"No wonder you find me useless, you can just wave your hands and get shit done! What sort of knowledge are you looking for anyway? I could probably look for just about anything on this thing. Or we can get you like, a library card."

You wave the palm-husk around.

>> You look at the palm-husk, running your fingertip over the mirror-smooth surface. You can see a moving image of what's in front of you- There's a slight delay, and you tilt the husk back and forth, watching the image change. The image reacted to your touch, too, becoming smaller, and you swipe your thumb over the surface again. This time, it becomes larger.

>> Ah, so that's what it means to 'take' a picture.

"Accounting."

>> You repeat, your tone mostly flat, though there is an intrigued note there. Sort of like a small child just offered you a hand full of dirt and worms.

>> You tilt the palm-husk to the side in order to look down at the troll.

"Tell me, then, what do your skills in finance have to do with poaching artefacts? You could pursue banking and money-handling instead of searching ruins in vain, no?"

>> You look back at the palm-husk, currently pointed at the wall.

"Well if I had skills in finance that would be a fitting question." You brush it off. "I mostly just passed. I also started this line of business because of debt." Your butt's starting to hurt from sitting on the ground, so you stand up and pat yourself down. "I've always been better suited for... physical tasks. And mind you! I'm good at my job!"

You cross your arms, otherwise you think you might try to get the palmhusk back and make him angry or something.

"I do think someone might be trying to get me killed because I keep getting leads that end up with meeting you." Maybe Srevni hates you. This hadn't occurred to you before but now it's breaking your heart.

>> Your tail flicks again in annoyance. 'Take pictures'? From what? You have no idea what the word 'movie' means. You tilt your head, trying to peer at the tiny slate as he flips it around to show you the other side.

>> Right, let's just make this easy.

>> Your form shimmers and then shifts, and within a moment you are a troll standing over him- Or, something that looks close enough to a troll, you don't really care.

>> He started recording just in time to catch you brushing your hair back over your shoulders, and then you reach out to pull the 'palm-husk' from his hand so you can look at it yourself.

"Perhaps you did not surmise already, my grasp on the modern tongue is lacking. I have no idea what a movie is. Film, as I know it, is certain thin skin on the troll body. Delicate, and easily punctured ... As unaware of yourself as you seem to be, I would expect you to know it."

He's really hot.

That's kinda bad for you.

You let him take the palmhusk, which is replaceable unlike your hoverbike, and hold your lips tightly closed together. You need to remember he can kill you. Your life is at stake here, so you'd be better off not saying something stupid.

"Mm... Y-Yeah." You clear your throat. Why is your first instinct to flirt? Perhaps you need to self-reflect more. Not right now though. "I'm sure I know what you're talking about, but it probably has a different name now? F-Film is like, a moving picture, and I think it's called like that because the pictures itself are on a thin film? I don't now. I studied accounting."

You're being so normal about this interaction.

>> You say lazily, shifting to lie down, half-lounging in the open space of the hall.

"-If not particularly informative. Now, I've other questions: What of that stone slate and the light it produced? And what do you mean by film. Some ... Creative use of hide?"

>> The use of glass balls for scrying isn't unfamiliar to you. Fantasy- As you know it- Pertains to something imaginary or whimsical, so you can make some conclusions that he's referring to some form of storytelling, but the use of the word 'film' here is particularly baffling.

"The stone slate? Oh! My palm-husk!" You hold it up and show it to him. It does look like a sort of stone slate. "This is mostly a device used for communication, though it can do a lot of things, such as take pictures. The light it produced is called a flash, and it helps the pictures come out better, though I didn't intent to use it."

You tape on your phone and pull up the picture you took of him, then hold it back out for him to see.

"This is the picture I took of you! A film is a movie, I'm not sure what animal skin has to do with this? They're like moving pictures. Hold on, I'll show you."

You turn the camera towards him and set it on video and start recording.

==> You are snapped out of your focused work as your grubphone pings. You put down your charcoal and parchment, taking a moment to admire your work - you'd been trying to make a map of this particular area for days now.

==> You turn your attention back to your phone. You don't get many messages, so your curiosity is piqued as to who would be reaching out.

[FG]: :0:0!! Hellos Herous,,,, Yes I would still love those,,,,, they'll be a huge help,,,,,

[FG]: Hmmmm.... I think.... I should be there around midnight?? If my math is right....

[FG] Maybe we can grab some lunch somewhere..... I've got some spare caegars :):)

==> You tap your chin and think about what Herous might like to see. Some old coins? Nah you did that last time. Oh! You think you might have something that'll impress.

[FG]: I found pieces of.... an old spear I think.... the wood is rotted, but the spearhead.... it's dirty, but pretty intact.... made of some decent quality steel!!

[CH]: <-|I'd lOve tO grab lunch with yOu.|->

[CH]: <-|Spears and arrOwheads. | ThOse usually have interesting stOries tO tell.|->

[CH]: <-|I'm excited tO check them Out.|->

==> You're excited to see him too, but you can't say that. That'd be... too vulnerable to admit.

Her pleasure? As far as you can tell she's being honest, and that worries you, not that you let it show. Never show a seadweller fear if it can be avoided, after all.

"The Drama..."

You try to recall the movie. It was a romance, wasn't it...? You don't have much time for movies, between modeling and your primary hobbies, and now your moirail too. And Sharle isn't one for romantic films.

"I think they don't understand what it has to offer." You muse as she mentions people dismissing the genre. "It's easy to dismiss all of them as shallow...but it's not shallow to touch on fundamental troll emotions. They aren't my first choice of movie, but I bet there are gems I don't know about."

Entirely true; you do enjoy a good romance, it's just rare you have time to sit down and watch one all at once. If there was a good one, maybe you could watch it with Jillie, if she was interested...

Focus. Can't let miss Hearts catch you off guard.

You blink, surprised she's asking about your career, but not bothered - though you still have to be careful, you don't know her angle yet.

"I do some of those...and some more standard ads, too...but my favorite thing is modeling more artistic and experimental outfits, especially fantasy-themed ones. My city is full of dragons, after all."

"Supongo que es cuestión de gustos. A mi me gusta actuar en dramas porque es divertido, cosas como la acción o el horror... bueno, no me permitirían disfrutar papeles donde puedo actuar como una perra." Te ríes, porque es gracioso decir esas cosas sobre ti misma, porque sabes que casi todo el mundo lo piensa.

Te encoges de hombros y regresas al tema que más te interesa, que es hablar de él. No puedes ser el tema de conversación todo el tiempo, sería muy aburrido.

"Creo que si he visto alguno de tus trabajos con ese tipo de trajes." Probablemente en alguna revista, aunque es cierto que rara vez prestas atención a las cosas que no te afectan directamente. "No puedo decir que es algo que haya probado, pero puedo entender por qué te gusta. Creo que... te queda."

No hay nada particularmente profundo en tus palabras, pero definitivamente has escuchado lo que la gente dice de ella. Quizá deberías hacer algo drástico con tu apariencia para que la gente hable más de ti.

Serena

My baby

My love

Half of my soul

I forgive you for peeing on my bed

Forgive me for not being able to do more

Thank you for every second of the past 8 years

Thank you for saving my life

I love you, always

Read more if you want to see some author comments and the pictures I used as reference

"How long I've slept, that now in this world, gold does not reign supreme! Hmph."

>> You huff a jet of acrid smoke and small sparks at the very end of your sentence, which could be easily passed off as an accident or involuntary. A small reminder that you could roast him nicely in a moment if you so desired.

"You offend me with your existence. Only a lie would be a worse transgression. Your little contraption did as well as fly, my eyes did not deceive me."

>> You shift to sit back on your haunches, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air. You loosely shape this into an amorphous ball with your talons, and then it produces a hazy image: Your memory of him zipping away on his floating mount.

"An artefact's value lies in its context, and I've none to give you anyway. So, if gold does not please you, I will have to pay in some favor."

You sniff a little at the insult. "I don't think my existence is that bad..." You mutter, looking down and tracing random shapes on the floor. That was a little rude, if you say so yourself. No one has criticized your exitence before.

You look back up, gaping at the mysterious orb that projects images. It reminds you of something, and you gasp when you remember what it is. "It's like the glass balls they use in fantasy films!" You nod in understanding. "I see what you mean now. Hmm. I wouldn't call it flying? Not like you can fly, anyway. That thing is my baby, it's called a hoverboard. I built her myself. It uses a type of antigravitational technology that... Well I'm not sure I'm equipped to explain it but basically it makes her float and "hover" over the ground. It also uses voice recognition to come to me, but it cannot get much further away from the ground."

"You've fine luck. Shame it is spoiled by the master being a fool."

>> You respond to his mutter idly, this time speaking in the modern tongue you've picked up through your servants. You pad closer to the door with intent to open it, but before you reach it, he sticks only a hand through, holding .. Some strange black stone? Whatever it is, it flashes a bright light in your face, and you flinch out of sheer confusion.

>> What the hell was that? It was no magic you know of, or could sense.

>> You hook a talon on the door handle and jerk it open, tilting your head to peer through the doorway.

"First you fly without wings, and now you create light with slate stone! What manner of trickery is this? Speak now, and perhaps you will be rewarded."

>> Your tail flicks.

"This is what you seek, isn't it, troll? Gold."

You don't decide fast enough if you can outrun a dragon and then the door is being pulled open so hard you feel like your arms will tear off if you don't let go. Of course, instead of letting go, you go along with the door and now you're too close to its head for comfort.

You take one big step back and hold your hands up in defeat.

"Uh... Technically I'm looking for ancient artifacts and the like that I can sell in the black market to rich collectors for money." You start to ramble, because that's what you do when you're nervous. You talk. You would make a terrible spy. "So I mean, I guess gold jumps over a couple of steps, but I can't do that much with solid gold and most people will not buy it- Not that! Not that I would reject anything you wanted to give me lest I offended you oh my god I need to shut up."

You clamp your mouth shut and swallow, then remember something else that was said before.

>> There was some, hidden away behind a painting in the master bedroom. But you already fetched that already, and your servants have it in case money is required somewhere. Besides that, there was once some gilding and gold accents on some of the furniture, but that has long since been pilfered.

>> The dungeon is built into a natural cavern beneath the castle, but it otherwise doesn't go much of anywhere. It's just a rank stone pit with stagnant water and no dirt to dig in.

>> Well, either your 'guest' will leave the way he came, or he'll come through here. The scent is strong enough to tell you he's still in the castle, drafts carrying it to you- You'll need to set up more spells here to keep an eye on things, it seems.

>> You settle down to rest, idly grooming some moss out from between your toes.

You open the next door you see and walk into yet another empty room. Then you stop. You double check just to make sure you're not imagining things, then open the door again and close it behind you. If you can't see it, it can't see you either.

"Holy fucking shit what sort of terrible luck do I have." You mutter to yourself, holding the door for dear life like that's gonna stop the dragon from tearing it out of its hinges with one swift move.

This is bad. This is terrible. At least your lusus didn't come this time and your hoverbike is safely hidden away. Maybe you should take a picture and send it to your friends so at least they know how you died.

Okay, this was...not the reprieve you were expecting.

If you can call it one at all.

What is Lektra Hearts doing here, cutting her way through because she knows the crowd will part for her? There's a few other seadwellers here, but she's probably the only fuchsia.

The blueblood next to her...you don't know him, don't know what he has to gain from this, or if he's just trying not to provoke someone who could have him culled with a word.

(The other blue and purplebloods around you seem amused and curious, a few whispering as they wonder what an actress of the highest caste wants).

He gestures to you, and tells you Lektra's name, like there's any chance you wouldn't know who she was. You know a seadweller actress yourself, though Contra is completely different.

Contra is...not so intimidating. You can't put your finger on it, but something just feels off about this woman.

Not that there's anything you can do or say about it, so you only smile.

"Pleased to meet you, miss Hearts." You say, soft but clear. "What have you acted in lately? I don't keep up with movies as well as I should, but I would like to be more informed."

You're being genuine; film isn't a field you know as well as some others, and it would pay to be more informed so you can chat about such things with Contra.

"The pleasure is mine." You dismiss the blueblood and focus all your attention on Iva. His dress is pretty, but not too flashy, probably to keep a low profile among the highbloods. Not that it's doing anything to hide the bright white hair she sports. It is nice though; could be considered a fashion statement. "Oh, I starred The Drama." You say like it's not important. "Fun movie, though some people are rather dismissive of the genre.

"What about you? I've seen you here and there, but I'm not too familiar with model jobs beyond promotional movie and album posters." You chuckle softly, pushing a strand of hair behind your fins.

dragon man

man me a dragon