#callos things

This ugly fish fuck appreciates your patronage!!

At first, you’re opposed to the idea entirely. But no matter how hard you stomp your feet or shake your head in vehement denial, the key dangling before you opens all the blockades you’ve set around yourself over the perigees since your... ‘incident’, and you are unable to keep it to yourself. 

A shudder runs through you, your sneer hostile, though the runny panic of your pinpoint pupils betrays your fear. Your fins flatten in knowing this will make you incredibly vulnerable.

“I hate magic,” you spit, as if the very word taints your tongue with a taste most foul. “I hate it what it does to trolls. I hate what it makes them capable of.”

“They say that power makes you volatile, ha! My lust for power is nothing compared to a magic-user knee deep in their craft.” Your brow furrows and you draw your arms close to your chest, pensive. Your voice is less angry when it echoes throughout the empty room a second time. “It’s nothing compared to his lust for it.” 

The way you draw yourself closer to your chest portrays a horrid sense of fear, a trauma that you’ve swallowed up until recently. You look almost as if you were a lost barkbeast in a desperate search for warmth. It doesn’t suit you very well. Without thinking, your hand reaches up to your face, rubbing at thin scars that pock your flawless features, your sneer widening into that of hurt betrayal. Your fins have wilted entirely, laying useless near your shoulders. “I thought I was invincible. Exempt from the demon that lurks just under the surface, swimming in his tarry veins. He would never turn against me. He would always save just a little sanity for me.”

Your lower lip trembles as you draw in a breath, using your sadness as fuel for your anger, slamming your fist against the desk with a heavy thud. Normally, you would use that unbidden energy to propel yourself to stand, to throw chairs or trolls, to throw a tantrum, but your hand remains on the desk, splaying out your fingers on the wood. Your rings make quiet scratches as they skid across the surface, before it raises to shield your eyes from view, turning away in your chair with a frustrated hiss.

Callos would def. be interested, but more as a business partner than anything. He’s particular about his quadrants. 

The King and I:

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. Surely, the great and illustrious Callos pestering me at such an early hour of the morning, he must be after something insidious! Afraid not, dear. I simply wanted to inform you that the guard rotations have been changing in order to prevent any others from mysteriously disappearing into the unknown folds of the void. Most will recognize you, some will not. Just be sure I know you’re coming to avoid unneccessary bloodspill. As much as I’d love to know my guards are doing their jobs, I’d rather it not be wasted on you.”

Handle with Care:

“I’ve... been thinking about escaping again. I fear that my time here is growing short. I.. just get these urges sometimes, unspoken impulses that guide my legs before my mind can fully catch up to them. Almost like... someone is whispering to me, urging me to run. Urging me to break free. I am afraid to leave this fleet. I am afraid to leave everything behind. The hive mind is all I know. If I leave, I want you to come with me. Alone, I may not be able to survive. But with you? I think.... I think I just might be able to.”

27. What causes them to feel dread?

Heavy deadlines. A certain clown. Nothing really causes him incredible high levels of dread, aside from his ancestor.

22. How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

Incredible acts of possessiveness. He makes it very clear that he won’t stand to have any being attention to aside from himself. If it has to be bloody, he’ll make it so.

16. What makes their stomach turn?

Magic users. Period. 

31.  Who are they the most glad to have met?

tbh if he was in a dating sim, he’d be locked behind 30 paywalls, all exponentially skyrocketing in price. Finally, after you’ve drained your wallet of all your available funds to unlock that handsome hunk of fish’s route, your game crashes.

You try desperately to reload, but it only continues to crash. A .txt file appears on your desktop, titled “Read me, if you would.” You click on it.

It opens Notepad, or a similar program, with one single sentence written on it in fuchsia letters: Thanks for the cash x. It then promptly deletes itself, and the game with it. It’s non-refundable. 

“’You had me scared for a second,  I thought we were diggin' my grave’ We did, what, you don't like bein' afraid? It's a dose of your own medicine What, you don't like how it tastes?”

been listening to that song on repeat for days now; had a sickly idea that perhaps Callos should be tried for his....abhorrent ways. And that every single troll on his own Council marks him as guilty.