Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
| Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT |
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Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit
Bunnie |
sweet bitter words, unlike nothing I have heard:
The unicorn whom I’d met in the Steppe, and shared a loathing of the Tallsun heat with, is sitting in the entryway to the Crafter’s Cave, talking to a scarred, pale woman that I do not know. She has a way of holding herself that suggests she has held four hooves to the earth for much longer than I have, but from the gestures she’s making, her conversation with the rather cheerful (somewhat annoyingly so) red and white unicorn seems to not be going well.
Approaching at a trot, I catch the tail end of an inquiry and observation given to the sugary stallion from the lips of the haunting mare, myself pulling in a haughty draught of the odiferous air wafting from the cavern’s entrance as I catch her words; eyeing the disarray there-in from this distance, my ears promptly fall back atop my head, the smell purely atrocious, even in comparison to the often dust-laden, junk pile strewn, mold-fest it had regularly been under my father’s care. Had someone brought in improperly dried pelts? A whole fucking dead bear smeared with shit and fermented booze? Yuck.
Little did I know someone had been born in it. That probably accounted for some of the… uh, more fleshy scents.
“Uh, no. No not really. I’ve been in this cave ever since I came to Helovia and joined the Basin.,” says the unicorn, which I guess I can sympathize with – but who had let him shack up here in the first place? Rolling my eyes with a mental thought - Uncle Deimos, he always did avoid the cheerful types at all costs - what he says next makes me, well, flat frustrated, almost immediately. “Why don’t you just make a new crafting cave!”
"Well, Johnny, my pal, you find another cave with two whole walls of natural stone shelves, which is why this one was picked to be the crafting cave in the first place, of course, and then fill it with memories of my father crafting the first pieces of the Sentinels within it, and maybe, maybe, the new cave will suffice," I remark, dryly, coming to a stop alongside the pale woman, with the scarred face, "he’s dead now though. It will likely be difficult to do such a thing."
Duir, arriving alongside me, promptly is very distracted by both the hostile overtone of the emotional tether between us, and the sheer brilliance that is Jellybean. His half of the bond suddenly floods with a very strong impulse to touch the bird-dog’s crown of feathers, which look most intriguing, and a secondary desire to, well, run away, like he always does when confrontation seems a sure thing. Believing himself partially responsible for me, however, the buck remains, knowing how, well, tempestuous my temper can be, and disliking the emotional distance with which I’d mentioned both my father’s life, and death.
"Not to mention it smells like something really dead and very much filled with maggots and disease lives in there," I conclude, with a nod, and a smile, "I’m sure no one would mind you sleeping here if you treated it for what it was – a public space – and kept it tidy. Any good land-Lord would have kicked you out months ago."
And your new one thrives on conflict, rather than avoiding it.
[ OOC: crashes thread with Skylark's permissions; Sarah, just tell me to fudge off if you don't want us here. Lol. Anyway HARHAR YOU CATCH HIS PUNNY. If JB isn't there Sarah, just let me know and I'll edit, but until then Duir rly wants to touch Jellybean this much: <---------------------------------------------------------------> x100000000 ]
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sing along, mockingbird; you don't affect me.
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Image by TheArtlex@DA
@Glasgow @Johnny
Wishlist - Plots
Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).
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