Every throb of the back of his head reminds him of a number of things. How they'd been lucky, this time, managing to defend their little bit of turf from another group of Urchins. How they'd just not been lucky enough to make it out unscathed. Most of them only had a bump or a bruise to tend to. Most of them had only left bumps and bruises in kind.

Maledos hadn't been so fortunate as most of the others - or so forgiving.

The boy who'd come after him had been a problem for a few months now, and given the opportunity to come after Maledos one on one? He'd taken it. Maledos's head had hit the ground, hard enough his vision went white for just a minute, and from there it was something of a blur - kicking feet and clawing hands. The boy had tried to cover his mouth, and that had been where he'd made his mistake. Maledos's head jerked, his hand slipped, and sharp little teeth had sunken into a dirty arm. He'd screamed, startled, and tried pushing him off. Maledos just hadn't been willing to let go.

He's bitten off fingers a few times before. But that didn't really compare to the feeling of the flesh of the other boy's forearm ripping away between his teeth as he bit down and the other boy pulled back.

He doesn't know, exactly, if he's bleeding. There was a lot of blood involved in general. He's had to take the entire back route to prevent risk of getting cornered by the guard for how much of it's around his mouth. On his shirt. He doesn't know who's is soaking the back of his head. Mixed with mud and gutter gunk. All it would have taken is one sharp edge to split his skin open, and the tight curls of his hair wouldn't have saved him from that.

Can all pointy-eared people do that? She's noticed Astarion's ears do much the same, but at a much higher rate and range of movement. Ren's movements are much more subtle, whether by better control or differences in make between Elves and Half-Elves --

One study at a time. Steadying herself, Sybelle reroutes that nervous energy towards her head and neck, nodding furiously. Black and red locks fly haphazard for a moment, before she straightens, forcing herself to remain very still and normal.

"Well... Did you ever learn much about Shou Lung? I know many Shou immigrated into Nathlan and Marsember, but I imagine a few must have felt loyal to the old homestead." Shifting the skirt of her robe, she casts an anxious eye back at Ren. Is it her place to ask about these things, knowing her father's kin had more claim to Shou Town than to Shou Lung itself?

She can call it academic curiosity if pressed, at least.

​ :

"I'm sure I will now that you're here to scare off my customers."

A low blow, but not entirely untrue either. Maledos was not the only tiefling in this part of the city, but that didn't mean he didn't cause a reaction in others, conscious or not. The obvious fiendish heritage was only one facet of that.

"You do realise that you have your own contacts and don't have to go through me for every little thing? Or did you somehow manage to piss off every single fence in the city at some point?"

Maledos’s brow furrows slightly, and the only sign that he’s rolled his eyes is the way that the light catches the movement of the golden orbs. “Oh c’mon, I was nice, I didn’t chase the last one off did I?“ he protests, though he knows his attitude wasn’t the only part of him that most people tended to take issue with.

@eldritchmoms​/Ren asked commanded: "Maledos? Eat."

Maledos hates this. Hates the the way that the command crawls through around in his brain and then down his arms. There’s a moment of resistance, even if a brief one, before he reaches to take the bowl of fish eyes, and the spoon that it was less being offered, given the command that came with them, and more being foisted upon him without mercy.

He’s slow about following the order, but he does it. One flavorful fish eye at a time, he chews them up, crunching through the lense and it’s gelatinous surrounding before swallowing.

It is a slow, torturous process that sees the fish eyes slowly consumed by Maledos, the tiefling’s expression getting less and less pleased with things as time goes on. One eye at a time, the bowl’s contents disappear, and by the time that he’s finished, he’s delighted to slam the empty bowl down on the counter.

Maledos slips into the apothecary as though there on an errand - and he supposes he was. There was no point skulking with what he was after, and he's never any intention of bringing trouble to Ren's door. As the door chimes, he makes a point of glancing up at the bell's mechanism as though he was surprised by it.

He lingers for just a moment, then steps inside, making sure the door doesn't catch his tail as it swings shut. He's delighted to find the space nearly empty - save for Ren himself, and a young woman who looked of only slightly better standing than himself. More delighted still that she was was already on her way to the door, though Maledos is not going to pass up the opportunity that her presence offers to poke a little fun.

Hair Prompts || Accepting || @eldritchmoms — sender Reciever accidentally sets the receiver's Sender's hair on fire. [23]

Maledos sits in the back room of the shop - out of sight of any customers that might wander in. He's waiting for Ren to get back, and in the mean time he's slumped down in a too familiar chair - the wood worn and smooth. 

There'd been a time when it felt too big for him - this was no longer the case, he'd gotten leggy since then. Maledos has his knee hooked around the outside so that the top of the leg didn't dig into his thigh and it's only his slouched position that lets his shoulders brace against the back. His left leg is tossed up to rest on the bed in front of him. He can see why Ren had made him sit here - it was hard not to, with the swelling of his ankle.

Maledos's head tosses back and he gives a groan as the time stretches on - Ren was taking forever.

The words are like an itch crawling up the back of his skull. These just seemed to be on the inside. He'd almost been asleep, probably the reason that the words itched at all, instead of simply crawling along, leaving their meaning embed in his mind.

His eyes close tighter, and he shifts his weight, rolling himself forward along his hip until he can find another comfortable position. He shoves his arm up under his pillow, trying to add more height to the front of his head now that he'd moved how he rest on his horn.

All the while, his face is pulled up into a scrunched expression of distaste.

"Just a guy with opinions," he says, his lowered voice still seeming loud when there was nothing around to break the silence but his own breathing. "It don't make me a priest."

He shifts again, stretching himself out further and cracking an eye, just to make sure that he was still in his tent. The canvas that meets him is ragged and a long-greyed red. A far cry from the silken shadows that might have greet him if he'd heard the words while actually asleep.

His eye falls shut again, face relaxing as he tries to settle back in for sleep. The silence of the shadowlands lingers around him, and is almost too loud for his tastes, seeming like it was compelling him to finish his thought.

"Just makes me good at pissin' 'em off."