#pollaplous

   Namrask stands in the shade of his hand-built stall, situated in the Eliksni quarter of the City. This place below the Great Machine was nothing but ruins of past battle, abandoned, but not forgotten by Humanity. In his grasp is a loom, and while often full attention is required to keep the strands from catching or tearing, he cannot afford it. Humanity has been unkind to him and his since they arrived, and with the Guardians only half caring to help, he has to make sure to keep a keen gaze on the space before him.

  People come and go but keep their distance for the most part, an occasional look sent his way or an unfamiliar phrase. It is not hard to tell what the words might mean in how the people enunciate. Anger is the easiest to understand, as is fear. Even before the City he had his fair share of that emotion from Humans. Namrask is at a disadvantage here, though, unlike before when he’d stood atop a mountain of flesh and bone-

  He stops briefly from the task at hand to clear his head. He is not that Eliksni anymore. Namrask is here to create, to weave, live without having to endlessly take. How ironic for him to feel this after all he had done.

  Taking a slow breath and Ether ebbing from his mandibles on the exhale, motion captures his gaze. Pulling closer the fabrics draped over him, Namrask leans forward and sets the loom onto the table behind the counter, eyeing this stranger with an air of curiosity. They are a Guardian, he assumes. Humanity here often dressed in vibrants and extravagance where it could be afforded but Guardians were even more excessive. It reminds him of their lost home.

Visiting time — visiting time — they chant that in their head as they’re busy descending into familiar caverns; the crystals of Liyue are always a wonderful sight to see, illiciting pure joy from the god. 

And they come with a story for today too! Little did Sylvie know those fun little balloon plant flowers came out with such a force that they have a whole red bump on their forehead from being smacked by one that was expanding, their fringe barely covered the redness. On a fun note, they also found out you can cling to them to float.

Here we have the Morax band

@pollaplous nibbling on the play pen @lapisxdei nibbling on a shoe @visicnbcrn nomming on the mask @goldglorified nibbling on the other shoe and @steadfastcommerce goading Childe

Of all the humans Razor had seen in his life, the one now crossing his pack’s territory might be one of the oddest ones. Dressed in finer clothes than anything the human hunters could ever dream of, calm and composed in his steps, like he wasn’t just walking into the territory of wild beasts. 

Humans so deep into the wolves’ home was never a good thing. Their intentions never matched their sugarcoated words. It only took stepping close enough for the sweet tone to turn sour as they reached to grab him with a scowl. At least his fangs and claws had always been enough, tearing into flesh with animal screams until they left. Or the wolves made them.

Yet this man felt... different. Smelled like the earth from faraway places. What did he want?

The thought alone made his fur stand. He couldn’t let that happen- he was a wolf, he wouldn’t -couldn’t- be separated from his pack.

It was good to see a familiar face near his ship, Suroks waved a hand, his head tilting slightly. "Rook, it has been some time." His gaze went up to the sky, then back at the Warlock. "It is good to see you well, everything seems to have grown more dangerous now that the sun does not rise." 

It was a relief for Rook to see the Eliksni at his ship, looking more or less unscathed. She hopped off her Sparrow and trotted to him, though the usual sunshiny spring was missing from her step.