INNOCENT CALAMITY ;

Debate isn’t what he came here for. It’s quite obvious to him the saiya-jin was a sensitive case. Considerably hypersensitive, if what Kakarot told him was true. If he didn’t know any better, he’d naturally find that trait for a pureblood odd. The kid has a monopoly of freakish power under her control and yet the pettiest of crap can push her to lose it—but he wouldn’t mull over it. She is how she is.

Needless for him to say, whatever comes of her emotions is inconsequential to him. How he’s talking now isn’t meant to be remotely intentional on ruffling her fur, so to speak. He’s just simply communicating what he honestly feel towards what the hell she escorted him into.

        “Feh. Don’t think me to be the type to sugarcoat anything, alright? However I see it is how it’s going to be called.” A snorts follows after. His classism is not a engine for him to start a war or whatever annoying troubles that his brash words can initiate. It can be looked at as a insight into the world where his upbringing happened. It’d be ideal for him if she can hold water and not take it as a personal attack. For lack of a better term, it’s purely a “culture shock”.

It’s a ludicrous belief for him to have to believe this is actually where saiya-jins of their caliber is staying. What a repugnant way to live. “Tell me this, child: what is this atrocious place suppose to be?” As he previously admitted to her the moment they entered, it appeared as a nest that’s under construction for roaches and vermin to frequent.

                    His words sting   — —   you find it to be an embarrassment, to introduce outsiders to the utter pigsty you call home. Your territory was just outside of the kingdom, the King’s castle, that very same King who damned you all, visible in the distance, and it mocked you ever so much. The difference was drastic.

                       Here, everyone lived in what can barely be called houses. Broken windows were aplenty, everyone dressed as if they had picked out rags from the empty warehouse behind one of the inner city’s boutiques. You and your sister — Caulifla — were one of the few who donned even remotely appropriate fashion, but you never chose to conform to society. You bore gold, a neat crop top, and a pretty little skirt ; but you still preferred your ragged robe over anything else. But ... that pride always escaped you whenever you left Sadala. Upon exiting the bad lands, it was like you didn’t want to be associated.

                    But that was far from true. You would always bear the heart of a “gangster.”

                    You remain silent as you enter the building. There, children are running about, as dirty as everyone else. The women all give suspicious gazes, not at you, but the “friend” you decided to bring. You give an apologetic smile to your family, and finally, your attention turns to the otherworldly Saiyan.

          You freeze almost instantly   — —   are you supposed to wake him up? As your body tenses, you make sure not to move even a single muscle, for fear of … something. ( But what? ) 

          ❛ You... ah. ❜   —   you pause in the middle of your sentence, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge. This man was not normal ; he reminded you too much of yourself, a fact that made you more than a little uneasy.

by some miracle i’ll agree to do a starter call