[ ] Try to resummon Maram. There's a risk she'll still be crazy and try to kill you. But there's a chance she'll be okay. She might be well enough to answer questions, explain what happened to her and the temple. Maybe help you save Makram too.
^The sad part is that an insane marid trying to kill him might be something Eldin would appreciate right now. It would be a problem he'd know how to solve.
BUUUT I should probably vote for something a bit more productive than that.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
^The sad part is that an insane marid trying to kill him might be something Eldin would appreciate right now. It would be a problem he'd know how to solve.
[X] Tell Abzu about what you saw and heard in the temple. The voices that only you could hear at the shrine Jun-ho had a bad feeling about, the flashes of ancient stillness when the black water touched you. Maybe they can explain it better than you.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
Doing something not involving people we care about much sounds good. Eldinger is a tad too wrung out to emote right now.
[X] See Mother. Ordinarily you'd rather pull teeth, but this isn't an ordinary situation. You, a Dragon, have been Slighted. Though you've bitten back the urge and buried it beneath obligations, you do desire retribution. She can help with that. If there's one thing you can be reasonably certain she'd help you with, it's finding Takara. Hell she might even be happy.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff
It's not relaxing, but we gotta do this sooner or later and the faster we get it done, the less weight it'll be on our back. No one likes having an unfinished task nagging at the back of their mind.
Also maybe if we do this Mother will fuck off and le- hahahaha who am i kidding she won't
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
"I don't... know what to do," you murmur to the cold, slumbering lamp. "I don't even know how I feel. Confused. Angry, I guess. Scared you won't come out again. Lost. I mean- I know what I should do. I should go after Takara again, harder this time. I've already shown them too much patience. They've crossed the line and I should be hunting them down, personally if I have to, and I'm just so angry at them I want to, I want to be there and yell at them and hit them and force them to tell me why they had to do this to me but... hah. But I know that if I try to handle this on my own I'll just mess it up too. I've already... I've already messed up too much."
You sniff. You scrub your snout with the back of your hand. Nothing more pathetic than seeing a dragon blubbering like some mortal with a dead dog. You give yourself a lot of leeway but that would just be the final straw.
Still no response from the lamp. It's finally the silent, pretty ornament you were hoping for when you first dug it out of the pile. You trace the planes and angles with your thumb-talon, just feeling the shape of it in the twilit gloom.
"I'm... I was scared," you say. "And angry. So scared you were broken and so angry at Takara for hurting you. Still am. And that would be normal but- but I think it's worse than before. It feels worse than when you blew up my gold, or when I lost all that money from my merchant house, or when Takara stole from me after that."
You blink once, twice. Rolling the shape of the words over and over in your head as if you were feeling out your own fangs in your mouth.
Ah... crap. And here we see who Eldingar is when he feels safe (read: alone) enough to open up, and it's about as expected. Big heart, little confidence.
You told them to make themself at home, and they have. The room's almost unrecognisable, almost every inch of spare floor-space taken up by some contraption related to alchemy or enchanting or tinkering with a couple bookshelves thrown in there for good measure - not enough, clearly, the still-made bed is piled high with loose tomes and scrolls. A pale cyan crystal sits within an iron bracket atop a plinth in the middle of the room for no reason you can fathom, but it's definitely magical in some capacity. The marid's corrupted lamp sits on one table in particular that's been cleared of all other obstructions, the brassy precursor-worked metals and oil-black creeper tightly wound through it under the scrutiny of some kind of ceiling-mounted magnifying scope. It has to extend quite far down to reach Abzu's eyes. You knock once in what you hope is a calm moment.
Visions. Voices. The ones that only you could see and hear. That Jun-ho didn't even though he was right there with you. The ones that made you feel so strange, made you snap at him over nothing because you just wanted to see, and then those tendrils sucking the life out of you even as they bound you and dragged you to your doom. You glance at Abzu and they look back at you, white paintblotch eyes wide and unconcerned. You wonder if they know that they're the elephant in the room. You wonder, based on how vague and forgetful they've been before, if you'd even get a straight answer or two if you asked. You hate this. You hate all of this. Ever since Takara you can't stop thinking, you're getting all suspicious and you can't keep your focus anywhere. Your head's getting pulled in six different directions and it's all just a tangle of the corrupted marid and Abzu and the dead sun on the lightless beach and Takara and Makram and that fucking party you keep forgetting and-
Numbers, paperwork, forms that have been sitting in our desk for ages and need to be filled out and errands we should've run last week. It's grey, dull, and ultimately toothless. And then? Once we put in actual effort to the project that Mother-legitimately-expects-us-to-fail-at-I-think. WwweeeeeeeeeGo talk to Dragon Mallory Archer about Dealing With This Takara Shit.
Honestly I think at this point it's kinda inevitable that, after everything, Eldingar's going to melt down at least a little. And we're sort of in the stages of how to shape that and/or direct it.
Worth noting, I think the two of these have the potential to combine catastrophically. I agree Eldingar is on the road to a meltdown, and I'd rather put off seeing his mom until after it, otherwise I think there's all too much potential for her to provoke it and that would be... Even worse.
[X] Work on getting entertainment for the party. You've put it off long enough as it is, and while it won't be fun it at least shouldn't be all that demanding. You'll head into town, put out some feelers, probably talk to Amina about it, just boring business stuff.
Yeah, I echo Tenfold, the update was kind of frequently hammering in the Eldingar needs that sense of Doing Something right now.
"I'm... going to head out," you say at last. "There's some work I need to do in town that I've put off too long already. I shouldn't be gone long, back tonight at the latest. Do you need anything else here?"
[No no, I'll be alright.] [Will you?]
You wave your hand. "Of course. Trust me, I think paperwork is exactly what I need right now. And I'll feel better having started on this."
[Okay! Good luck!] [I'll keep working on the lamps in the meantime, hopefully I'll have something more for you tomorrow!]
You give Abzu a gentle pat on the shoulder in gratitude and leave.
You bump into Jun-ho on the way out, but halfway through apologising for planning to be away all day he cuts you off to tell you it's fine and wish you well too. On the one claw, you're glad to be out and in the air without getting bogged down talking about everything that's happened, but on the other you can't deny the thought of him stuck at the spire without you lingers as you ascend towards the cloud layer. It's too easy to picture him, Datu and Lyrros just sitting around stuck at the spire miles from anything with literally nothing to do all day, even if one can fly and one can shapeshift and one can probably swim faster than most commercial sailing ships. It's even easier to picture them all talking and getting to know each other without-
No, enough of that.
... one hundred bags of gold on the wall, one hundred bags of gold...
You enter Söfnun in the usual way and head for the house headquarters. No Amina right by the front gates waiting for you this time, just a healthy amount of people streaming in and out to help money change hands in one way or another. You raise a hand in greeting to the receptionist, as well as anybody else you pass in the hallway that you recognise, and make your way to the relative safety and serenity of your office. You barely spend any time in it for all it's quite sumptuously decorated, and in all your years you've gone through so little of the stationery you could probably share and not notice, but the glass is pebbled and the walls are thick. To any observer you're naught but an austere silhouette, hard at work doing very important business things. The perfect sanctuary-away-from-sanctuary.
So... first order of business. Figure out what business you have to business. You pause beside your desk, one hand resting on the varnished surface, and look all around the room.
"Amina?" you call out, only half-expecting a reply.
"Yes, sir?" she replies from the corner of the room.
"Aži f-fucking Dahāka!" you cry out, literally jumping out of your skin. You whip around to face the avian woman, and your tail whips a chair across the room in turn. THONK it goes as it bounces off the wall and lies still, forlorn. You studiously ignore it.
"I apologise for my lateness, I was held up with other matters," she goes on, as if she just let herself in through the door like a normal person. Your gaze flicks from her, the closed door, the closed window, then her again.
"How did- oh fuck it I don't even care any more," you grumble. You go get the fallen chair and drag it back into place on the other side of your desk for guests that will never come, round the elegantly-carved slab of wood, and sink down in your armchair with a groan. Amina helpfully moves into view.
"Would you like me to fetch you your fiscal reports?" she asks.
"No, no," you wave one hand, then press forefinger and thumb firmly against your brow. The soft, cushy leather armrest dimples around your armoured elbow as you shift your weight. "I need to get some real work done today. Could you get me some kind of record or list of entertainers looking for work around the end of the year?"
"You will have to be a lot more specific," Amina replies. "There over a hundred actors, acrobats, musicians, magicians, et cetera, registered to the Guild of Arts and Culture within the city limits, let alone those willing to travel for sufficient compensation. May I ask as to the occasion?"
"A birthday party for a dragon," you grunt.
"Ah. I'll narrow it down to those who take hazard pay, then."
"That sounds about right."
Amina leaves and returns relatively quickly, using the door this time. You have only a little time to sit and stew in silence, which you use to make sure your pen is still working. You end up drawing a little comic of a blobby dragon flying off to scorch a town with lightning-breath then fly home with big sacks of money and hacksilver. You crumple it up into a ball and eat it so no one can ever see it but you. Amina returns at last with a few sheets of tan paper, her selections from the registries underlined with a few brief notes about their specialities.
"Will you also be requiring a tithe of money or other goods for your mother's birthday?" Amina asks as you get started reading.
You stiffen, your gaze shooting up to meet Amina's. "No, the entertainment is my one job, and it's not my mother's birthday - and how do you even know about my mother?"
Amina dips her head slightly. "I apologise. The wealthy Lady Frida of the North Plains has taken up residence in the penthouse suite of Apex Towers - which, you'll forgive me for repeating gossip, is only for dragons - and presumed a great deal of familiarity in her dealings with this House. Her eyes arealso the same particularly striking shade as yours."
"(Yeah now whose identity is an open secret,)" you mumble to yourself. You shake your head and refocus on Amina. "Yes, she's my mother, but no, she's not having a birthday for a good long time yet. We don't do birthdays as often as mortals; first it's every ten years, then every century. Otherwise it just gets too repetitive, like throwing a party every weekend. Nana Illvithri is turning a thousand, which means the entire clan needs to go wait in her hand and foot and drown her in tribute so..."
"I will clear your schedule then."
"I have a schedule?"
You shake your head and drag the notes over to your side of the desk to get cracking. Amina's pared the list down to twenty-odd groups and individuals who might be worth an audition: a troupe of circus performers; a mage who appears to have spent her whole life working on increasingly elaborate illusions; a brace of actors ranging between solo acts and five-person bands; minstrels, troubadours, bards and skalds (all very distinct kinds of entertainer, don't dare say they're all the same thing where one of them can hear you); and finally... Undertaker Uptil Uniquely Unsettling Undead Union? According to Amina's notes, it involves a band of skeletons playing their own enchanted rib-bones like xylophone keys and dancing along while swapping heads and the like. Uptil isn't an undertaker but you can forgive the deception for the sake of alliteration. And, you note somewhat morbidly, it wouldn't matter as much if they were promptly eaten after the show.
"How much are you willing to offer?" Amina asks as she draws up the template for the many invitations you'll be sending today.
"Honestly just pick a number, I don't care how much it takes," you reply in a hollow voice.
"Of course sir. We can cover the commission cost with enough to spare to pay for travel and accommodation with all the extra revenue your new merchandise has generated," Amina remarks as she deftly adds a few numbers to the template. Your own pen stills from practising your signature.
"I'msorrywhatnow?"
She produces...
... your worst nightmare.
You're at a complete loss for words. You pull face after face after face but none of them, not a one, can truly encapsulate the sheer writhing mass of emotions boiling in the pit of your stomach in this single instant. Your jaw hangs slack as you mutely, minutely shake your head, eyes wide as dinnerplates in disbelief. Through it all that plush dragon toy hangs before you in Amina's hand, mocking you with its big button eyes and stubby little arms and snout that looks more like a duck-bill than anything draconic.
"(why)," you whisper in the face of this, the grandest of betrayals.
"You told me to use my own judgement and act in the best interests of House Elding, so I did," Amina replies, as businesslike as ever. "It was an instant hit with the children of Söfnun, selling out practically as fast as we could manufacture them. I'm told they most enjoy his soft, cuddly belly and the twelve different phrases he's enchanted to say if you squeeze him."
She exerts slightly more pressure to demonstrate, soft blue cloth dimpling around her talons. 'I'm a dwagon!' the toy exclaims sweetly in an impersonation of you. You drop your pen and bury your face in your claws, mouth open in a silent scream of pure horror. Slowly, slowly, you drag them down your snout, filling the room with the metallic screech of talons on scales. You stare up at Amina in obvious pain, yet her expression doesn't budge an inch. Your claws reach the end of your snout and fly off, landing on the desk with almost simultaneous thumps.
"... you didn't even get my colour right," you say at last.
"Because, technically, it isn't you," she replies. "He's a generic blue dragon toy that children are encouraged to name as they wish. Internally we refer to him as 'Eldingarl', which we may use if we decide to branch out into other types of dragon."
You keep shaking your head. "But- this is- I don't- It's a dragon!"
"I have seen similar toys of giant spiders sell equally well," Amina says with a shrug. "People seem to quite enjoy dangerous things shrunk down to soft toys."
Thunk. Now it's your head's turn to hit the desk. You sit there, face-down in the glossy wooden surface, arms hanging limp and lifeless by your sides, perched on the edge of your seat and waiting for the world to start making sense again. A few long moments of silence pass.
"Are you alright?" Amina asks.
"No."
"Ah."
A few more moments. You slowly rock your head to one side, cheek pressed against the tabletop so you can glare sullenly up at the birdwoman with one eye.
"What did I do to deserve this?" you mumble. "What did I do to you that you would destroy me like this?"
"The prospect of going on in your usual manner with your true identity an open secret clearly distressed you, and the only way to change that was to change public perception," Amina explains. "Given what I have seen of you, I judged that you would much prefer to be liked than feared. Hence, beginning with the city's children."
It makes at least a little sense, but you don't want to be reasonable right now. Your one open eye swivels around the room a bit before settling on staring at a low bookcase up against the right-hand wall.
"Hard not to take this as you mocking me when you use that tone and look at me like that," you say petulantly. "Haven't so much as seen you smile since I hired you."
"I lack cheek muscles."
"Oh." Your one open eye instead stares straight ahead, right at the keyhole beneath the handle of your office door that you're unsure even has a corresponding key since you've never bothered to lock up. You flick your gaze over to Amina again. "Sorry," you add, contrite.
"Apology accepted. Shall we break for lunch before we work on the invitations in earnest?"
"(yes please)"
Hours more pass mostly in silence but for the gentle scratch of pen on paper. Amina writes the invitations herself in her impeccable handwriting and you sign them all, staring at your calendar and agonising over how much time you should give yourself before the birthday in between. Eventually you settle on holding auditions about a month out, writing up a quick letter to the local theatre (the nice one) requesting that they keep their schedule open while you settle on the exact date. You write a few more to local inns, hotels, really anywhere with a room to rent, to make them aware of things as well. You almost ask for an extra copy of the invitation for Lyrros while you're on a roll, before you realise that'd probably send the wrong message.
When all's said and done, you've written more in one day than you have in probably decades, and Amina has a satisfyingly thick wad of envelopes sealed with your House mark in hand. You take a deep breath and put your hands on your hips.
"How do you feel?" she asks.
"Tired," you reply. "But better than I thought I would, I think."
"That's good," she says. A pause. "This is when I would smile."
"Yes, uh- thank you Amina, you needn't narrate things like that on my account."
"Very good sir. I shall mail these and see you later, perhaps."
Amina slips out the door and out of sight, a blurry silhouette through the glass the last you see of her as she rounds the corner and heads down to street level. You let out a heavy sigh and sink back until you're sitting on the edge of your desk, tail hiked up just high enough to flop lazily over the other end like a big blue snake. You grip the edge, rocking your weight between your hands and the balls of your feet as you contemplate your options for the rest of the day. You can think a little more clearly now. So what are you gonna do with that?
[ ] Head back to the spire and...
--[ ] See Datu. He seems the type to help you forget your problems for a while.
--[ ] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
--[ ] See Jun-ho. Come to think of it maybe you should have asked for a free 'Eldingarl', you bet he would've liked it.
--[ ] See Abzu. They probably haven't come up with anything earthshattering in the twelve-ish hours you'll have been gone, but you don't have to talk about the lamps.
[ ] See Mother. You've done the work now, she has even less reason to refuse you.
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Nov 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM, finished with 3572 posts and 17 votes.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Jun-ho. Come to think of it maybe you should have asked for a free 'Eldingarl', you bet he would've liked it.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
Adhoc vote count started by ZerbanDaGreat on Nov 24, 2018 at 7:12 PM, finished with 3573 posts and 17 votes.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Jun-ho. Come to think of it maybe you should have asked for a free 'Eldingarl', you bet he would've liked it.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
You know, it's probably a good thing Eldingar is gay.
Otherwise I would have to resist the urge to have him kidnap Amina and bring her back to the lair, and unlike what trashy fanfiction has taught me in the past that doesn't actually help you seduce people.
"Amina?"
"Yes Sir?"
"How much do I pay you? Cancel that - if you wanted to abscond with all the money, could I stop you?"
"Well - no, Sir."
"So. You know what - you get a salary increase. Take what you think is fair for your work."
"Certainly Sir. Is there anything else?"
"No, no, I think that's all for now."
You end up drawing a little comic of a blobby dragon flying off to scorch a town with lightning-breath then fly home with big sacks of money and hacksilver. You crumple it up into a ball and eat it so no one can ever see it but you.
I mean each bit of this update was like a soothing balm to my soul in a trying personal time, but this SPOKE to me on a very deep, meaninful, spiritual level.
You know what? I think we SHOULD see mother right now, fill her in on the groundwork we've done for the party and then maybe ask her advice on certain recent developments while she is presumably pleased that we didn't fuck up with the entertainment.
[X] See Mother. You've done the work now, she has even less reason to refuse you.
You end up drawing a little comic of a blobby dragon flying off to scorch a town with lightning-breath then fly home with big sacks of money and hacksilver.
"Of course sir. We can cover the commission cost with enough to spare to pay for travel and accommodation with all the extra revenue your new merchandise has generated,"
"You told me to use my own judgement and act in the best interests of House Elding, so I did," Amina replies, as businesslike as ever. "It was an instant hit with the children of Söfnun, selling out practically as fast as we could manufacture them. I'm told they most enjoy his soft, cuddly belly and the twelve different phrases he's enchanted to say if you squeeze him."
She exerts slightly more pressure to demonstrate, soft blue cloth dimpling around her talons. 'I'm a dwagon!' the toy exclaims sweetly in an impersonation of you.
Couldn't hurt to get a second opinion on the whole thing at least.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
You know, it's probably a good thing Eldingar is gay.
Otherwise I would have to resist the urge to have him kidnap Amina and bring her back to the lair, and unlike what trashy fanfiction has taught me in the past that doesn't actually help you seduce people.
She is competent enough that she'd turn it around on us with Eldingar being the one serving the bird lady. There is a reason why there are so many stories about dragons needing rescued from a princess.
You shake your head and drag the notes over to your side of the desk to get cracking. Amina's pared the list down to twenty-odd groups and individuals who might be worth an audition: a troupe of circus performers; a mage who appears to have spent her whole life working on increasingly elaborate illusions; a brace of actors ranging between solo acts and five-person bands; minstrels, troubadours, bards and skalds (all very distinct kinds of entertainer, don't dare say they're all the same thing where one of them can hear you); and finally... Undertaker Uptil Uniquely Unsettling Undead Union? According to Amina's notes, it involves a band of skeletons playing their own enchanted rib-bones like xylophone keys and dancing along while swapping heads and the like. Uptil isn't an undertaker but you can forgive the deception for the sake of alliteration. And, you note somewhat morbidly, it wouldn't matter as much if they were promptly eaten after the show.
You're at a complete loss for words. You pull face after face after face but none of them, not a one, can truly encapsulate the sheer writhing mass of emotions boiling in the pit of your stomach in this single instant. Your jaw hangs slack as you mutely, minutely shake your head, eyes wide as dinnerplates in disbelief. Through it all that plush dragon toy hangs before you in Amina's hand, mocking you with its big button eyes and stubby little arms and snout that looks more like a duck-bill than anything draconic.
i can't believe we just saw a man get murdered live in a quest, shouldn't this be against the site rules? shouldn't someone tell the mods? i'm pretty sure this trips the graphic content boundaries ngl.
[X] See Mother. You've done the work now, she has even less reason to refuse you.
Look, when in doubt and in emotionally unsteady territory make like KFC and
But somewhat seriously: I think...idk, the deal with Takara is a kind of emotional Damocles sword hanging over Eldingar's head. It'll fall eventually and the results won't be pretty but in the meantime it's something that's chewing on him, obviously wearing on him, and even though it's been banked a bit part of the dude (a large part) is a raging, flaming, fiery wreck; all fury and grief and fear without an outlet and few people who can help him shoulder it. Issachar or Belial would be the ideal people for it but, uh, neither of them are around right now: Issachar's kinda taking a breather and figuring out how he wants this to go on his end iirc and Belial's in the middle of his own depressive spiral.
If nothing else hunting down Takara will at least get us answers. It'll be a kind of catharsis, one way or another, and more than anything I think that's what Eldingar needs right now.
Plus, ngl, I think the big blue dumbass is kinda shit company atm and at least this way he won't be stuck in the spire, half distracted and fretting over Makram's lamp.
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
"Of course sir. We can cover the commission cost with enough to spare to pay for travel and accommodation with all the extra revenue your new merchandise has generated," Amina remarks as she deftly adds a few numbers to the template. Your own pen stills from practising your signature.
"I'msorrywhatnow?"
She produces...
... your worst nightmare.
You're at a complete loss for words. You pull face after face after face but none of them, not a one, can truly encapsulate the sheer writhing mass of emotions boiling in the pit of your stomach in this single instant. Your jaw hangs slack as you mutely, minutely shake your head, eyes wide as dinnerplates in disbelief. Through it all that plush dragon toy hangs before you in Amina's hand, mocking you with its big button eyes and stubby little arms and snout that looks more like a duck-bill than anything draconic.
"(why)," you whisper in the face of this, the grandest of betrayals.
"You told me to use my own judgement and act in the best interests of House Elding, so I did," Amina replies, as businesslike as ever. "It was an instant hit with the children of Söfnun, selling out practically as fast as we could manufacture them. I'm told they most enjoy his soft, cuddly belly and the twelve different phrases he's enchanted to say if you squeeze him."
She exerts slightly more pressure to demonstrate, soft blue cloth dimpling around her talons. 'I'm a dwagon!' the toy exclaims sweetly in an impersonation of you. You drop your pen and bury your face in your claws, mouth open in a silent scream of pure horror. Slowly, slowly, you drag them down your snout, filling the room with the metallic screech of talons on scales. You stare up at Amina in obvious pain, yet her expression doesn't budge an inch. Your claws reach the end of your snout and fly off, landing on the desk with almost simultaneous thumps.
"... you didn't even get my colour right," you say at last.
"Because, technically, it isn't you," she replies. "He's a generic blue dragon toy that children are encouraged to name as they wish. Internally we refer to him as 'Eldingarl', which we may use if we decide to branch out into other types of dragon."
You keep shaking your head. "But- this is- I don't- It's a dragon!"
"I have seen similar toys of giant spiders sell equally well," Amina says with a shrug. "People seem to quite enjoy dangerous things shrunk down to soft toys."
Thunk. Now it's your head's turn to hit the desk. You sit there, face-down in the glossy wooden surface, arms hanging limp and lifeless by your sides, perched on the edge of your seat and waiting for the world to start making sense again. A few long moments of silence pass.
This passage slew me. I scrolled down too far and saw the image early, and burst out in shrieking cackles. Then I forced myself to scroll up and, with discipline, read through the whole thing properly - and started cackling again. It only grew in strength, right up until the thunk. I stopped being able to breathe for laughter about halfway through. Well done, Zerban.
Haaaa... Okay, votes. Where'd I leave the tracker at...
Turns since spending time with Makram: 2
Turns since spending time with Jun-ho: 5 (Unsatisfied with last trip)
Turns since spending time with Belial: 0
Turns since spending time with Issachar: 0
Turns since spending time with Abzu: 2
Turns since spending time with Takara*: N/A (no options available yet)
Turns since spending time with Lyrros: 3
Turns since spending time with Datu: 1
* Yes damnit I'm counting them still.
Maaaan, poor Jun-ho is getting neglected but we really should drop in on Lyrros, given the context. Okay, let's,
[X] Head back to the spire and...
--[X] See Lyrros. Even if you don't eventually work up the nerve to ask him to perform at Nana's birthday, his professional opinion might come in handy later.
but make a note that first chance we get, Jun-ho needs attention.
And see mother NEVER, at least until the breakdown comes through. We really do not need her needling on Eldingar's frayed state of mind... and I suspect her solution to the Takara situation would be very destructive to our chances of adding them to the polycule which, okay, some of you are probably in favour of that, but consider that it would also hurt our chances of cuddling up with Petros' soft beefcake as well.
] they sign. [If there's a problem, we'll find out and we'll fix it. Okay?]
