Jezeff: Sit on a bench and contemplate your miserable life.
You hate everything. You're not even sure -where- you are, but there's a bench, and far be it for you to question the existence of a convenient bench.
Your lusus is hungry, but you already fed her today. There's still some olive blood smeared on your pants from that particular fight. You still haven't gotten around to actually feeding her other trolls, but you suspect you won't have long. You put your head in your hands and groan.
Maybe you'll just let her starve.











