❤ : Would my muse have sex with yours if they asked.

✉ : What would they say in a love letter to your muse.

☼ : What kind of outfit they think your muse should wear.

£ : If our two muses went on a date, who would they expect to pay for it.

★ : What their favorite thing is about your muse.

♚ : What my muse thinks your muse is good at.

♋ : Who would be the big spoon and who would be the little spoon.

♒ : How my muse would describe yours in one sentence.

☢ : If they view your muse as a friend or enemy or love interest.

✘ : What one thing they would change about your muse.

“Hi, I’m ______.”

“Oh fuck! Are you okay?”

“Crap! Sorry about that! Wasn’t looking where I was going. Here, I’ll get you a new jacket…”

“Need a ride?”

“How are you?”

“Seems like we’re gonna be stuck on this train for an extra three hours.”

“What’s your name?”

“Thank you.”

“You just saved my life!”

“Move the fuck out of my way.”

“Watch where you’re going!”

“Asshole.”

“Would you like anything?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

"Do I know you?”

wtf

that’s fair

not again

Taighan raised his eyebrows sharply at the troll, blinking slowly and warily. “…How could I do what exactly?” he asked warily, tilting his head to look at the Darkspear nearly sideways like a cautious cat. “What did I do now?”

“You see child, I was merely offering something so wonderful, something so charming as a place to stay? A bed for the night?” He clutched at his chest with mock-pain. “And you, you go and turn such a kind, generous offer down. What is the world coming to?” 

His ears pinned as far back as he could get them, which wasn’t terribly far given the weight of his gaudy jewellery, and the way the cartilage seemed to be lacking strength in his old age. The gesture, potentially meant to show his displeasure somewhat lost the effect as they flopped sadly. 

“Is it so wrong to admire someone like yourself?” He spun away, the loose flesh on his old arms swaying in the breeze. “Such a charming young man. And I am old you see, would like some… company? Someone to hear my fantastic tales?” 

He sighed and pinched his nose, shaking his head. “Your offer is very…kind, but I have no interest in bedding you…or anyone for that matter.” He folded his arms and frowned at Akaz. “I suspect you have no interest in me but much like a cat are enjoying batting the mouse about.”

He looked away and grunted softly. “Does that silly drivel actually work on anyone? Or do you just like hearing the sound of your voice, hmm?” Despite his scowl, his voice wasn’t unkind or insulting. He was actually curious. Did this kind of…well, it was flirting, wasn’t it? Did it actually work? On anyone?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No interest, huh? At all? Well… there is nothing wrong with that.” 

Jewellery clanged together as he shrugged. “That just makes my advances somewhat pointless, doesn’t it. And you’d be surpised. Or perhaps not. Sometimes those who fall for that kind of thing don’t have much between the ears. Good for when you’re looking for a companion for the night. Not so good when you’re looking for an actual conversation.” The old troll smiled, almost kindly. 

“Well.” He pressed his hands together, and tilted his head. “I am honestly sorry if I insulted you. And if I made you uncomfortable. More sorry for the first than the second, as I’m sure you’d be able to pick up on.”

The Ranger sighed softly. “Yes, I am afraid your attempts at seduction are rather pointless. No insult meant to you, sir. I simply am not seducible, I suppose?” He blinked at the apology and canted his head as if he was trying to determine the druid’s sincerity. “I suppose I will recover from my both my damaged pride and my, ah, nervousness.”

He blinked as the other continued, ears twitching. “You question your choices? I suppose we all do.” He frowned a bit and tilted his head, humming. “I do not think your voice is so bad. I suppose to another troll it might be strange? I had not really considered, but what you say makes sense.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Pierce and tattoo? Really?” He looked intrigued, ears tilting upwards.

The old troll barked out a harsh laugh. “That was back when I was a… shaman though. Not some old piercer hanging around the bay. And that is good to hear. I’m sure the nightmares filled with my saggy ass being highlighted by scummy water will fade as well.” 

He laughed again, ears twitching. “Of course. Alienating myself from my own culture? Most trolls take pride in their accents. Cultural identity and all of that. People do tend to look down on others who appear to be running from their own people.” He fixed Taighan with a thoughtful look. “Yeah, other trolls to think it strange. Some of them are a bit more violent about the idea than others.” 

Akaz tapped at the chain hanging between his tusks. “Yup. Good place for it, this port. Goblins are a big fan. I can also heal as I go, makes things a little easier for the client. A little different from regular healing, you’ve got to make sure the ink is properly between the layers of skin, or that the piercing heals right. Good fun.” He grinned. “You interested?” 

He made a little noise and blushed, shooting Akaz a mild glare. “Thank you for that,” he muttered, shaking his head and clearing his throat again. “Just in case I had managed to block the memory and all…”

His brow furrowed a moment as the old druid continued. “That is stupid,” he said thoughtfully. “You are no less a troll because of your voice. You are who you are. You remember who you are. You remember your people and your stories. Just learning to talk to other races more easily does not mean you have forgotten yourself…” He looked down at his hands and sighed. “It is the memories and the soul that count. Not the outside. Is it not?” He looked up at the other, brow creased in concern.

He looked away and hummed softly. “Sort of?” he said thoughtfully. “I have…something I do not want to look at anymore.” He twitched his ears and tilted his head. “Really? You must have considerable power and control then. Healing is a delicate business and using it on such a precise level is…actually very impressive.” His eyes sharpened and he got a keen, curious look, studying Akaz thoughtfully.

He did smirk at the comment though, tempted to show off with a little shimmy, but believing the elf would not really appreciate the movement. “You’re welcome. I can remind you at any time, if you would like. Daily reminders by mail? I can even provide pictures.”  “Is it? I have made an effort to mask my accent, and pronounce Orcish properly. Other trolls take pride in their accents. It marks them as who they are, which tribe they belong to. And for me to give that away, to some it is a sign that I am rejecting my heritage. It isn’t an easy feat, to chance an accent as an adult. Requires a lot of work.” He smiled. “That is what I believe. My Zandali is still fine, if perhaps I have forgotten it a little over the years. But I am still, very clearly, a troll.” He shrugged.

Taz’ji turned the small, leather doll over in his hands. It was shaped like a raptor, or more specifically, one of his raptors. One of his hatchlings, that hadn’t quite make it to being large enough to bear a rider. Or even make it beyond a child. 

It wasn’t the first he’d lost, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last either. But that certainly didn’t make it any easier each time one of his children - for they really were like children to him, that he raised, and trained,  sold onto people who he made sure would treat them like the brilliant, intelligent beasts he knew they were - left the world earlier than he would have wanted. 

He’d made a few of these already. They were crude, his leather-working skills significantly sub-par, the stitching rough and the edges frayed. But he’d sometimes hand them to children, or to people looking down. There was something about it which was relaxing to him, making them and giving them away, hoping that the little raptor he’d lost would be able to make someone smile again. 

One of his fingers was bandaged; he’d slipped with his awl. It’d probably be healed by now, he thought as he continued to turn the raptor over and over. It was his last one out of the lot he had made this time, and something prickled at his throat. 

There were less people around than before, and an elf walking past caught his eye. Familiar, perhaps, although he couldn’t put a name to the face, or even remember where he had seen the hunter before. Taz’ji stepped towards him, attempting to grab a hand and press the small doll into his palm. 

[[ Art by @rencatt/ @tazji and used with permission! I had to post it cause it was so cute. ]]

Taighan blinked in surprise as the troll stepped in front of him. He recognized the scarred troll, tensing in anticipation of some kind of trouble. His few dealings with the pale-haired shaman had been nothing but trouble so far. He wasn’t prepared for the small toy pushed into his hands. His fingers curled around it instinctively as he looked down at the little raptor toy.

He looked up again, intending to say something or ask what in the world the other was doing. The troll’s sad eyes, lowered ears, and that quiet question made something twist in his chest, just a little. He had seen that look before. He had had that look before. It was hard to let them go, even if they were already ‘lost’.

He looked down again, turning the toy over and rubbing a finger over the small head as if it were a living thing. “Yes,” he heard himself saying softly. “I can…take care of her.”

He hesitated a moment and frowned slightly. “Does she have a name?” he asked, ears flipping forward with interest. “I would…like to know her name. If that is okay.”

He shrugged, before looking down at the doll in Taighan’s hand, and sniffing quietly. “Dey each be unique, yanno? Would be feelin’ wrong ta not give dem a name.” 

He turned his head away to wipe at his face, hiding his sniffles.

“They are like children. Even if it is sometimes only for a little while, they each should have a name…” His own eyes suddenly stung and he looked down, blinking hard a few times to keep them at bay. Breaking down like a fool in the middle of the street wasn’t something he wanted to do. 

It took him a few moments to trust his voice. “Mak-aka,” he repeated, trying to do his best to pronounce it as correctly as he could manage. “That is pretty. I like it.” He ran his thumb gently over the toy’s head again with slightly sad smile.

He smiled, small and sad. “Loose dem, don’ forget them. Raise her brothers an’ sisters well. Hopefully dey be findin’ good homes.” 

Taz’ji nodded. “It be a nice name. She was a kind one too, would have been good. Got sick though, as sometimes dey do. Couldn’t help her.” 

The troll, sighed, and ran a hand over his face. For once, he knew, he was actually looking his age, bags under his eyes and creases at the corners. Eyes dark and sad.  “Not ment ta be, I suppose.” 

[[ AMG. Why must you traumatize my elf? <3 There’s a troll wanking so it’s under a read-more! ]]

Grumbling loudly to himself, Taz’ji had proceeded to retreat to the deepest, darkest corner that Orgrimmar had to offer, one hand pressed against his side. It wasn’t really something too serious, just a thin slice over his belly, and a few stolen bandages took care of the bleeding pretty quickly. He rolled up his remaining, unused spoils, stuffing them in one of the pouches handing from his belt. 

“Well, dat wasn’t too bad.” He chirped to no-one, scratching at his shoulder. A small beetle crawled past, and he decided to address that instead. “I mean, no one be dyin’ or anything. Might have mad a few enemies, but hey, Mr. Beetle, what would I care about dat for.” A claw reached out and he let the small insect crawl onto his finger. “Ya know, if I wasn’t in such a good mood, I might have considered throwin’ ya into de lake, an’ watch the fishes - “ 

The shaman paused, realising he had company, or perhaps had not been alone the entire time. A death knight, going off the pale blue eyes. He doubted a high elf would have even been able to make it into the city without being torn limb from limb. 

The Death Knight ear’s twitched, and he turned his head towards the origin of the sound, a male troll that looked somewhat injured, and was maybe even suffering from some kind of fever, as he was currently communicating with a beetle, settled nearby to his position.

The troll noticed Thalaraan´s presence after about two minutes, and to say the least, the Death Knight was not impressed at all with the threatening tone in the troll’s voice, as the other looked far too worse for wear to be able to actually do any lasting damage.

“I hadn’t said anything,” Thalaraan commented, one of his long, pale eyebrows raised and his blue eyes pointedly meeting the troll’s own, the Death Knight was bored, but he had already engaged in enough mindless violence for the day, and maybe this would bring him something interesting to see.

With those thoughts in mind, Thalaraan decided to try and follow whatever conversation this beetle conversionist wanted to through at him, he was also somewhat interested about finding out if all of the blood covering the troll was his own or someone elses.

There was nothing like bathing in your enemies blood after all.

He went to set the beetle back on the ground, before shooting Thalaraan a look, and choosing instead to place the critter as high as he could reach, atop one of the stalls. The troll turned back, and feebly attempted to brush away some of the dirt and blood from his clothes. 

“No, actually I came here for a new dagger, and the orc is out, so now I have to wait here, with you apparently.”

The Death Knight let his eyes follow the beetle, it was interesting to see what it would do, maybe he could pass the time that way.

“Also, for that much blood, how many did you take out? Two? Not an impressive number I assume” Thalaraan commented, eyeing the troll out of the corner of his eye, baiting out a reaction.

He was so bored.

Ears flicking back, the troll followed the Death Knight’s gaze up to the beetle and sneered. “Leave de critter alone, ya rottin’ bastard.” 

The Death Knight shrugged and changed his posture, making himself just a little more comfortable against the wall.

“I also don’t have to leave you and your beetle alone” Thalaraan commented, tilting his head to one side.

“Not to mention that this is the only place that sells truesteel daggers in Orgrimmar, and I need that kind of metal to properly work on the….enchants” The Death Knight said, leaving out the fact that he just made them runeblades and then sold them.

“So indeed, no need to be so defensive” Thalaraan smirked “Or maybe it’s just that I make you nervous?” he asked, a mocking expression adorning his face.

Taz’ji shrugged at him, not really caring too much for the sale and enchanting of daggers. “Dat be nice. But standin’ around here rottin’ ain’t gonna make de shop open any faster. If anyt’ing, ya stench gonna drive dem away.”

He scratched at the dirt with a toe. “No. I jus’ ain’t in de mood ta fry a corpse. See, the stench tends ta make me hungry, an’ I be preferin’ my food fresher. So not only do I hafta den burn ya to pieces, I’d have to go find something to eat dat isn’t mostly decay.” The troll shrugged, like his answer had been an obvious one. 

“But no. A dead troll, mebbe? Dat might make someone nervous. A dead elf? Pathetic.” 

“I wouldn’t worry much about the stench, as not only do I tend to prefer to keep myself cool in order to not rot, but also because this is Orgrimmar, and I can name about one thousand things that smell worse that one Death Knight.” Thalaraan said while leaning back, his head tilted to one side.

“I was also sure that trolls tended to eat their food raw? You know, with the whole cannibalism thing,” the Death Knight said “Or are you simply too weak to stomach that?”

“I have also learned to not judge someone by their appearance, as you never know what they are capable of, don’t you think so too?” Thalaraan finished with a small, mocking smile.

Taz’ji crossed his arms with an offended huff. “Cannibalism is illegal yanno. Why ya goin’ t’inkin’ dat I’d eat someone. An’ sure, it be better raw, an’ it be even better when it be somet’ing dat hasn’t already been dead fo’ ten years. But illegal. Ya t’ink I be anyt’ing other den a law-followin’ troll?” 

A claw tapped against his short stump of a tusk. “Ya tryin’ ta scare me or  somet’ing. Here be a thought. If I be sayin’ somet’ing stupid to someone, an’ den, dey being more powerful an’ all dat, turn around an’ kill me, do I not be deservin’ dat death?” He shrugged. “Avoidable, through a bad mistake, an’ be entirely my choice ta make. So if I go an’ insult ya, believin’ ya weak an’ den ya not an’ I die? Well, dat be my choice ta make de shitty decision in de first place, huh.” 

Taz’ji turned the small, leather doll over in his hands. It was shaped like a raptor, or more specifically, one of his raptors. One of his hatchlings, that hadn’t quite make it to being large enough to bear a rider. Or even make it beyond a child. 

It wasn’t the first he’d lost, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last either. But that certainly didn’t make it any easier each time one of his children - for they really were like children to him, that he raised, and trained,  sold onto people who he made sure would treat them like the brilliant, intelligent beasts he knew they were - left the world earlier than he would have wanted. 

He’d made a few of these already. They were crude, his leather-working skills significantly sub-par, the stitching rough and the edges frayed. But he’d sometimes hand them to children, or to people looking down. There was something about it which was relaxing to him, making them and giving them away, hoping that the little raptor he’d lost would be able to make someone smile again. 

One of his fingers was bandaged; he’d slipped with his awl. It’d probably be healed by now, he thought as he continued to turn the raptor over and over. It was his last one out of the lot he had made this time, and something prickled at his throat. 

There were less people around than before, and an elf walking past caught his eye. Familiar, perhaps, although he couldn’t put a name to the face, or even remember where he had seen the hunter before. Taz’ji stepped towards him, attempting to grab a hand and press the small doll into his palm. 

[[ Art by @rencatt/ @tazji and used with permission! I had to post it cause it was so cute. ]]

Taighan blinked in surprise as the troll stepped in front of him. He recognized the scarred troll, tensing in anticipation of some kind of trouble. His few dealings with the pale-haired shaman had been nothing but trouble so far. He wasn’t prepared for the small toy pushed into his hands. His fingers curled around it instinctively as he looked down at the little raptor toy.

He looked up again, intending to say something or ask what in the world the other was doing. The troll’s sad eyes, lowered ears, and that quiet question made something twist in his chest, just a little. He had seen that look before. He had had that look before. It was hard to let them go, even if they were already ‘lost’.

He looked down again, turning the toy over and rubbing a finger over the small head as if it were a living thing. “Yes,” he heard himself saying softly. “I can…take care of her.”

He hesitated a moment and frowned slightly. “Does she have a name?” he asked, ears flipping forward with interest. “I would…like to know her name. If that is okay.”

He shrugged, before looking down at the doll in Taighan’s hand, and sniffing quietly. “Dey each be unique, yanno? Would be feelin’ wrong ta not give dem a name.” 

He turned his head away to wipe at his face, hiding his sniffles.

Taighan raised his eyebrows sharply at the troll, blinking slowly and warily. “…How could I do what exactly?” he asked warily, tilting his head to look at the Darkspear nearly sideways like a cautious cat. “What did I do now?”

“You see child, I was merely offering something so wonderful, something so charming as a place to stay? A bed for the night?” He clutched at his chest with mock-pain. “And you, you go and turn such a kind, generous offer down. What is the world coming to?” 

His ears pinned as far back as he could get them, which wasn’t terribly far given the weight of his gaudy jewellery, and the way the cartilage seemed to be lacking strength in his old age. The gesture, potentially meant to show his displeasure somewhat lost the effect as they flopped sadly. 

“Is it so wrong to admire someone like yourself?” He spun away, the loose flesh on his old arms swaying in the breeze. “Such a charming young man. And I am old you see, would like some… company? Someone to hear my fantastic tales?” 

He sighed and pinched his nose, shaking his head. “Your offer is very…kind, but I have no interest in bedding you…or anyone for that matter.” He folded his arms and frowned at Akaz. “I suspect you have no interest in me but much like a cat are enjoying batting the mouse about.”

He looked away and grunted softly. “Does that silly drivel actually work on anyone? Or do you just like hearing the sound of your voice, hmm?” Despite his scowl, his voice wasn’t unkind or insulting. He was actually curious. Did this kind of…well, it was flirting, wasn’t it? Did it actually work? On anyone?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “No interest, huh? At all? Well… there is nothing wrong with that.” 

Jewellery clanged together as he shrugged. “That just makes my advances somewhat pointless, doesn’t it. And you’d be surpised. Or perhaps not. Sometimes those who fall for that kind of thing don’t have much between the ears. Good for when you’re looking for a companion for the night. Not so good when you’re looking for an actual conversation.” The old troll smiled, almost kindly. 

“Well.” He pressed his hands together, and tilted his head. “I am honestly sorry if I insulted you. And if I made you uncomfortable. More sorry for the first than the second, as I’m sure you’d be able to pick up on.”

The Ranger sighed softly. “Yes, I am afraid your attempts at seduction are rather pointless. No insult meant to you, sir. I simply am not seducible, I suppose?” He blinked at the apology and canted his head as if he was trying to determine the druid’s sincerity. “I suppose I will recover from my both my damaged pride and my, ah, nervousness.”

He blinked as the other continued, ears twitching. “You question your choices? I suppose we all do.” He frowned a bit and tilted his head, humming. “I do not think your voice is so bad. I suppose to another troll it might be strange? I had not really considered, but what you say makes sense.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Pierce and tattoo? Really?” He looked intrigued, ears tilting upwards.

The old troll barked out a harsh laugh. “That was back when I was a… shaman though. Not some old piercer hanging around the bay. And that is good to hear. I’m sure the nightmares filled with my saggy ass being highlighted by scummy water will fade as well.” 

He laughed again, ears twitching. “Of course. Alienating myself from my own culture? Most trolls take pride in their accents. Cultural identity and all of that. People do tend to look down on others who appear to be running from their own people.” He fixed Taighan with a thoughtful look. “Yeah, other trolls to think it strange. Some of them are a bit more violent about the idea than others.” 

Akaz tapped at the chain hanging between his tusks. “Yup. Good place for it, this port. Goblins are a big fan. I can also heal as I go, makes things a little easier for the client. A little different from regular healing, you’ve got to make sure the ink is properly between the layers of skin, or that the piercing heals right. Good fun.” He grinned. “You interested?”