#clertrick

          bright eyes search the girl’s face beyond silly expression , and the corners of dema’s lips cannot suppress the smile that gently tugs to create dimples along cheeks.  snakes pull themselves over shoulders to observe the tiefling , and twist their heads to look at dema as if waiting for an answer.

          a sigh of defeat ; she’s been outnumbered.  eyes cross similarly , pupils expanding to more than mere slits in concentration as tongue creeps quickly past teeth to display itself.  same forked shape , though snake-like genes that dema possesses gives hers more of a narrower , longer shape ; black in color.  she hides it away again before speaking , but the tone of her voice is nothing less than entertained.

TIME ALONE IS A PRECIOUS COMMODITY when traveling with seven others ; and even now, curled up with her sketchbook and watercolors, Rapunzel has had to create her own refuge in the corner of the room, away from the chatter. Though, her attention is finally captured by the sight of a kitten approaching her. Certainly not FRUMPKIN.

Rapunzel attempts to remain unaware as the little blue creature draws closer. ( After all, how good is a TRICKSTER if she is CAUGHT? ) And her surprise is amplified as she becomes prey. A string of giggles escapes the maiden, and both hands reach out to run through the patches of blueberry fur in an amused show of affection.

Until there’s no fur left.

A WHEEZE escapes her at the sudden impact against her chest, and paint splatters onto her arms and across the floor. She hears the distant crumple of a page beneath Jester’s foot; her work is abandoned in favor of -- literally -- a more pressing matter. Paint-stained hands reach up to leave trails of amethyst and emerald upon sapphire skin as she touches Jester’s face. And there’s laughter. So much laughter that her lungs ache and she’s forgotten the gaze of the others in the room. 

“ It was perfect. ” A half-truth, though she’d never venture to criticize the woman’s ability to surprise her. Rapunzel strains to sit up, shifting so Jester rests in the space between her folded legs. She smells like sugar and paint and a hint of her mother’s oils and it steals the remaining air from her lungs. 

                    her company was welcome, most times - rather, all the time, with him simply being poor at expressing it. an adoration exists for her, something deeper that stemmed from a keen appreciation for her carriage. such a pretty blue gem, vibrant and pleasing to an eye trained to enhance and commit to the aesthetics of things. a fondness had grown since, refined with their familiarity.   -- so her company, he adored, longed for. 

                    but it made it difficult to work. 

                    the other manifestations of him did what they could to entertain, to feed into whatever desires she may hold at any given time. ( each passes with a jerking shift to posture, clumsily attempting to capture her candies, often stopping to carefully tuck at the hair around her horns. ) but jester was a clever woman, and clever women aren’t fooled by tangible illusions. 

                    he ignores the first clattering - the second too. steadfast, determined :  he knows better than to give into her desperate pleas for attention, else she would never let him work. but by the third, he’s straightening his back, a soft, yet heavy sigh off his lips as the goggles are pressed up against his forehead, pushing curls with them. prime takes his time, controls the situation with each prolonged moment he spends wiping grease and metallic dust from his hands. back remains turned to her for the majority of his task, wordless until he finally discarded the cloth and closes the space approaching her. 

                   “ respectfully, my lil’ sugarplum, you’re makin’ it awful hard to get anything done. “ lopsided grin sits plainly on his face, but it’s ever as unreadable as another man’s pokerface may be. a hand mimics what the simulacrums had done before, brushing dark tresses around her horns, pad of thumb lightly grazing over the textured surface of one. “ unfortunately, that just won’t do, nope. i got deadlines, y’know. “ his tone betrays his smile, a touch of scolding from the more surly of the bunch. roaming hand finds a wrist, and another, capturing both of her hands easily.