#raitrolling

So there is this guy who smokes cigarettes and is up to his eyeballs (one eyeball is special) in eldritch horror but like he's just kinda used to it by this point because you know sometimes things just because a bunch of Tuesdays rolled into one and that's just how it is

He is super responsible but also sometimes kills people because sometimes being responsible means giving haute cuisine to nasty thangs on the beach so they don't murderize more people. Benefit of the town and all that. Not benefit of the tourists there goes the industry.

Grapevine can't eat much!, but I !ove making her b!ood ice cream! It makes her fee! a !itt!e !ess insecure about the rainbow drinker thing!

For my dar!ing Red Sangria!, I !ike to make him pot pies packed fu!! of meat and potatoes and !ots of vegetab!es! Y'know!, something c!ose to a ba!anced mea! since he doesn't a!ways eat we!!!

> Case file in hand, you stride up to Glasya’s office.

> The Investigations branch and, by extension, the Archives office have been moved to a less damaged part of the building. You know you’ve been holed up in your new office for the last few perigees- Recovering, providing support and direction for those still around, overseeing your little part of Gaia as it’s put back together.

> You walk with a limp still. Magic got you back on your feet quicker, but there’s still a long road to full recovery.

> You knock in a little rhythm on Glas’ door.

> You don’t have any fancy ‘fortune telling’ stands to set up. You’ve found that having one seems to invite people to come kick it (and you) down.

> Instead you’re just kind of awkwardly standing around near a park entrance, absently shuffling a tarot deck in your hands. You don’t dare look down at it, because you know what card you’d get.

“Uhm, hey...!! I’m giving fortunes here...!! Does anyone want any?!!”

“Free of charge, um, I promise...!!”

> You wave the deck around as people walk by, though so far no one is taking you up on it. You absently spin your lucky caegar, at least grateful that nothing too terrible has happened yet tonight.

> You spy a redblood in an interesting looking sweater... with a blindfold approaching? You wave at them, then realize you look stupid and just stop.

> You don’t know how long it’s been.

> Nights. It’s definitely been nights. As for how many, you can only guess by your current state, and as it were you’re not really in a state to think about it.

> You’re bound to some sturdy metal scaffolding by a pair of handcuffs, you’ve tried already to break free- As indicated by the gashes in your wrists where the metal cuffs broke the skin from how hard you were pulling.

> The troll who captured you was smart enough to give you psionic inhibitors. He was not smart enough to avoid gloating. He got too close to you, thinking you’d given up, and you tore his throat out with your teeth. His corpse lies in front of you, dried blood pooled up around him.

> That left you very much stuck here. You’re on the tail end of a psionic breakdown, after the inhibitors wore off. You’re surprised that didn’t kill you; Looks like you’re going to starve to death instead, because it’s not like anyone’s looking for you.