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@lewarx
who of these trolls are gonna take me out for a nice lunch.
absolutely any of them. it is an unavoidable character trait that every single one of my trolls has inherited my fondness and respect for the noble institution of lunch.
of course, it's up to your opinion to determine which ones would provide a NICE lunch or which ones would be nice to have lunch with in the first place.
Questions?
It seems to be a popular trend to ask for any sort of fantroll questions lately! It might help me get back into the swing of things, so click this link and ask away!
Troll list, for reference, is here. Still gotta move that to this blog.
you gotta do the cooking by the book
Zenere flung open the door and engulfed her matesprit in a very undignified hug before the poor tealblood could even say anything, ignoring the way Dystas’s horns were currently trying to bore into her arms.
"Dystaaaas!" Zenere’s natural accent turned what was probably supposed to be a nice, elegant name into a crass drawl, but it wasn’t like the yellowblood noticed. "Come in, babe! I haven’t seen ya in ages!" She more or less dragged her matesprit in with one arm, closing the door behind them and propelling Dystas towards the kitchen. Zenere’s hive was a modestly sized settlement, built as chaotically as you’d expect, with a pretty open floor plan; kitchen, dining room and living room on the bottom floor, with the bathroom and respiteblock on the top.
As per usual, her useless lusus was gurgling away in the corner of the room, but Zenere paid it no mind- she assumed Dystas would do the same. “Tonight’s dinner is, uhhh, I dunno, I can’t pronounce the name.” She laughed. “It’ll be great though!” The ominously large pile of ingredients on the kitchen counter silently said otherwise. “Plonk yerself down somewhere, tell me how ya been!”
There was no use resisting Zenere when she had you in her clutches. She was far too strong and far too big to overpower without a serious competition. For one as small and twiggy as Dystas, she was as trapped as a moon in its planets orbit. She did not resist, saying nothing until being propelled forward, at which put she quickly came to a stop, tottering briefly, before calmly scanning the room to take a seat on the cleanest looking furniture fixture (ignoring the gurgles of the lusus), gazing with completely disguised concern towards Mt. Ingredients.
"I'm alright," Dystas began. "Been better, been worse, so... fine. It is good to see you too, by the way-- You didn't quite allow me to say so." She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee before continuing. "Why don't you say how you've been instead?"
clarta lewarx: soft on crime, hard on confectioneries. vote acanth.
Molide stared, letting her facial expression convey the oozing contempt she felt for Clarta’s sass and ridiculous ideas instead of signing about it. Giving them the tools to do more things! They wouldn’t be playing long enough for Clarta’s corn-farming ambitions to pan out, and it would be irrelevant if they did, with the alchemiter. Teaching them to ‘elect’ leaders wouldn’t serve to help mobilize them against the Denizen.
“YOUR PLAN IS DUMB, AND ALSO YOU ARE. BUT I CAN’T STOP YOU FROM TORMENTING THE LITTLE IDIOTS, SO WHATEVER. YOU HEREBY HAVE MY PERMISSION TO WASTE AS MUCH TIME MESSING AROUND WITH LIZARDS AS YOU NEED.”
It was a win-win deal, really. Clarta would at least be too distracted to meddle in her business too much.
"Well, that's a start."
While her quips and lack of retort to Molide's own attacks may seem to indicate a non-serious nature to the whole thing, it was an unspoken truth that Clarta was very serious indeed. Not only would access to the Salamander's society finally put her in a serious position to examine her social theories on a small scale, they could also be a useful tool for... well, quite honestly essentially what Molide intended to do with them, inadvertently. Foot-soldiers working towards the ultimate goal. The difference, was of course, better treatment, probably payment and rewards for their services...
"I suppose I should get to that soon, then, or at least get around to a better idea of what exactly I otherwise have to do."
OOC: Hey, friends
((You know who you are
Just posting this here to let you know that I've been busy today and the day before, and that my replies are coming probably tomorrow! I didn't forget!))
you gotta do the cooking by the book
Zenere Morula, head delivery chump (tm) of the premiere fast food delivery chain Pizza Grub (tm), had very little free time. It was a regretful side effect of spending her waking hours hustling across Alternia: perhaps if the other chumps would stop DYING so much she’d get less shifts! But, as it was, tonight was her first break in what seemed to be a perigee or so. And she wasn’t going to waste it.
She had a matesprit, funnily enough, even though the poor girl (okay, she really couldn’t refer to someone as glacial as Dystas as ‘poor’ even in the most jocular sense of the word) didn’t get to spend as much time in Zenere’s presence as Zenere would have liked, and so the yellowblood had invited her over tonight to enjoy a nice homecooked dinner. Which Zenere was going to make. Yes. Cooking.
(Zenere had entertained the idea of going to the zoo, but… she’d gotten a reeeeeally bad feeling about it. Better to stay at home.)
The evening was warm, Zenere’s hive was lit up, and the cheerful yellowblood was lining up the ingredients for tonight’s dinner while waiting for Dystas to arrive. Surely this would go off without a hitch!*
*Zenere wasn’t actually sure how to cook the meal she had planned.
As Dystas regarded Zenere’s hive from a distance, she had a feeling that things were probably going to go pretty badly. She really hated when it was herself experiencing the feeling.
Nevertheless, she had prepared what she could to make things go smoothly. Her appearance was seldom better: She had re-dyed her hair in anticipation, pressed her clothing and carefully inspected each individual article to confirm that they were 99% free of dust, and polished her glasses. Her normally snowy pallor even seemed somewhat less pronounced, though that may have been her imagination. Preparations were not merely physical, however. She had reflected upon the great works, spent some time rehearsing in front of a mirror to ensure she was had the top of her syllabic game, and made promises to herself to, if whatever grease bucket Zenere concocted gave her ill feelings for days, to at least keep it to herself. It could not be said that Dystas Soctes was not trying, at the very least.
And yet, the feeling remained. Nerves, perhaps? Dystas frowned. Unexplained premonitions? Dystas frowned harder. A general realization that given their natural personalities, differing backgrounds, and usual time spent apart, that things were almost certainly going to be socially difficult on some level, despite their shared relationship?
Dystas frowned even harder, yet thought on the subject no longer, and began her final advancement to the door. Stopping before it, she would take a moment to adopt a neutral expression, press the only wrinkle that dared show itself on her sleeve downward, and knock four types, evenly spaced and with equal strength, on the door.
clarta lewarx: soft on crime, hard on confectioneries. vote acanth.
“ONE, YOU’RE MIXING DENIZENS AND CONSORTS. TALK TO YOUR SPRITE, LEWARX. TWO, I’M TALKING ABOUT USING MY CONSORTS AS A TEMPORARY TOOL, NOT CIVILIZING THEM.”
There wasn’t really much civilizing you could do to crocodiles, as far as Molide could tell. They already had their little villages and their funny ways, so who cared, really? It was just a matter of whipping them (possibly literally) into shape to face down the big bad boss. She certainly wasn’t going to be able to use her fellow players as purely expendable cannon-fodder against the denizen.
That was for when they had reached the Battlefield.
“THREE, YOUR PLAN IS PROBABLY DUMB AND ALSO BORING. JUST SAYING.”
Clarta waved a hand in dismissal to Molide-- Consorts, Denizens, she hadn't really figured out the intricacies of the situation yet. Molide still had several more hours of experience on her side, and when the most any of them had was just a handful, that was pretty significant!
"So, rather than using them as tools, I'm going to give them the tools to do more things. What's so wrong with that? You're probably right, though--" Clarta paused, adding what would be an ironic aside if she was able to properly express tone, "--As usual. I should spend a time trying to get a better grasp on the situation before running off into something too big to handle."
clarta lewarx: another clever insult
“I FEEL YOU MISSED THE POINT OF THE EXERCISE," Molide signed, to Clarta’s snarky sass about trees. "PERHAPS I CAN DEMONSTRATE SOMETHING ELSE THAT MOVES WHEN YOU’RE NOT LOOKING DIRECTLY AT IT. OBSERVE.”
She raised a closed fist, waiting until Clarta had focused on it, and then passed her hand in front of it. After a few seconds, she repeated the process. Each time the fist was obscured from view, Molide’s finger raised a little, until she finally had fully extended a middle finger for Clarta’s contemplation.
“I HAVE A FREE HAND SHOULD YOU DESIRE ANOTHER EXAMPLE.”
With that said, Molide seized back her coat from the indigoblood and pulled it back into its proper place. Going around cold was unacceptable, the sort of thing one expected of someone about half as fancy and highblooded as her, and must be protected against at all costs or whatever.
“ANYWAY, DON’T GET TOO ATTACHED. HAVE YOU EVEN TALKED TO YOUR SPRITE? IT’S WAY MORE YOUR DENIZEN’S WORLD THAN YOURS.”
All Clarta could do to Molide's clever disappearing act was smile. She probably deserved that, and might be pushing the sass a little too far: she made a note to ease up on it all before continuing.
"We'll see. It may be overly ambitious of me, but I'd at least try out a few ideas of mine. You're one to talk, though! If it's their own world, forcing them into your service is probably even more brazen than what I have planned!"
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
Regali nodded as she read and placed a hand upon Clarta’s shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship and warm of touch.
Her other hand raised into the sky and a booming roar emerged from the clouds. The Lowbloods in the fields ducked at the sound, and perhaps the vibration of the noise made it to Clarta.
When the tail of the Lusus lashed around, Regali was quick to grab hold and be pulled along with it. It was a quick and discourteous exit, but the focus of her mind was now solely upon one place. One place she needed to be.
But she was thankful to Clarta for her advice. And to Molide for her guidance.
She finally had a direction with purpose. That alone filled her with vitality. Walking along the spine of her Lusus, she took her position atop its head. It was time to go home.
Clarta only blinked once as she watched Regali make her dramatic exit before turning to get back to work. All in all, she wasn't quite sure what to make of the whole situation, or even if she'd bet if Regali would find her way or not.
Hopefully, if she did, she'd find some manners as well!
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
Although they had walked amongst the fields for a time now, Regali’s mind had been occupied solely with itself. Not even the stares and whispers of the lowblood workers at the Seadweller walking by Clarta’s side reached her.
What was she missing? What was it she desired? The question, now fully exposed to her, was consuming her more than it ever had before. She’d gone and lost all her drive and desire the moment she gained freedom. She had thought she would run down to the Sea and it would welcome her. She would find partners and a place to be herself.
But it was only now she was aware that she was unaware of who ‘herself’ really was.
It was endlessly frustrating.
She jolted a little when the pad appeared before her, offered by Clarta. Reading the words, Regali was finally forced to look around. It was a fine view indeed, but somehow seeing it only soured her further. She would have enjoyed finding this place, on her rare expeditions from the mountain. Perhaps she would have even befriended Clarta then. One as sensible as her would have been a fine ally.
But now… what did Regali have to offer? And what did she need? Even that was beyond her. It was so obvious what Molide’s disappointment was in her that it stung deeply.
She took the pro-offered pen and paper and began to write.
It is a great thing you have made for yourself, Clarta Lewarx. This was true, even in her despondent state, Regali knew to recognise achievements. I only wish I were in better form to appreciate it and discuss with you. But I must admit, the findings of our conversation have left me… somewhat despondent to the beauty of the world at present.
Regali sighed as she wrote, her hand tipping a little. If Clarta was quick to read, she’d have already finished the first paragraph before Regali resumed writing.
But I have figured out the answer to one question now. Why did Molide write my name on one of the cards - I know that answer. Because I need to remember who I am. I think that’s where I will go next. So I think you, Clarta, for giving me that direction. It seems Molide had it all planned out from the start once again. I am ever in awe of her ability to direct others.
And that was a truth. Molide was a storm of power, one Regali was quite admiring of. She wanted to return to a state that would not disappoint her friend. And so she would go back to discover what she’d lost. That was her decision.
She finally smiled at having made one.
Clarta nodded to herself as she read Regali's words, though trace amounts of uncertainty still lingered in her eyes. On one hand, all she had seemed so remarkably clear that she couldn't quite understand why Regali had needed it pointed out to her. On the other, had the girl ever received sound, direct advice before in her life, isolated as she was and now guided by Molide? She resolved her expression with a light smile in return to Regali's own, taking back the paper once more starting another message.
You are most welcome, Regali. Doing some soul-searching is probably a very good step to take next, or really at all times. If I had to offer any advice, it would be to stay in touch with who you are. Follow your dreams and ideals, and do not be discouraged by any obstacle that may be stacked against you. An obstacle from one angle is merely a bump in the road from another. And when you've found your road and hit your stride going down it, the bumps will begin to fade to smoothness.
When you've determined what your road is, I would be more than happy to help how I can to see you advance down it, or figure out where it leads to. Still, from what I understand, you have several others to speak with first: Once more, yourself included.
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
Even as she read Clarta’s reply, Regali was aware of what it would say. The moment she failed to answer the question, she had realised what was missing. And it was more worrying than she had ever expected. Regali lacked anything to feel passionate about in life. She was looking for somewhere to belong but had no concept of what such a place would be. How then, would she possibly find it? Although Clarta had written more, Regali found herself growing uninterested in the knowledge of what had created Ms. Lewarx. No, it was the lack of knowledge of what made Regali Nouval that was driving her to the brink now. What was it? What was it she had lost when she became free? What was removed alongside her chains? She needed to know. She had to find out. She stood. Clarta had invited her outside and Regali nodded to the door. Perhaps movement would stimulate her mind.
As Clarta stood and lead Regali away (carrying the pad of paper and pen with her), Clarta bit on her lip in a thoughtful whirl of emotions. Primarily uncertainty and mild agitation. She would truly love to help Regali, but if the girl didn't even know what her own interests in life, just what could she do, having met her only veritable moments ago?
Further, a general lack of reply to either of her previous notes (which she had considered to be quite thoughtful) made it quite difficult to really say much of anything to the girl. Given her apparent feelings about how getting away from her mountain would near-magically make life perfect, perhaps it wasn't very surprising that she may expect Molide's plan to magically provide her answers as well: In this case, from herself. Likely either a product of seadweller entitlement or blind idealism.
Clarta held back a side. She musn't be too hard on her, she told herself. Regali had lived a difficult life so far, and the adjustment would likely be long and difficult.
...If only she could realize that.
In any case, Clarta had since lead the way outside, walking down a path amongst her fields of crops, which lowblood workers tended diligently. As Clarta passed, they'd stop and wave, having long since dropped verbal greetings. Clarta, dutifully, returned each wave. Under the glimmering light of the moons and waving lightly in the night breeze, the vast fields would almost appear as dark, gentle waves on an expansive sea. Eventually, Clarta stopped to admire the view, quickly scrawling a single line and passing the pen and paper to Regali.
"What do you think?"
clarta lewarx: world's dumbest sucker
'Losing your touch'.
Molide had to take a deep breath and count to ten to avoid breaking another one of Clarta’s windows. This wasn’t over the line, but it was edging dangerously close. Implying that Molide was ever anything other than perfect was grounds for painful execution for most trolls, usually by clever poison. Since it was Lewarx, she let it slide. For now.
“BY MY COUNT AS DEBATABLE BUT PROBABLE FIRST ENTRANT, IT’S BEEN NEARLY TEN HOURS NOW. I WAS CONSIDERING FINDING A SAFE PLACE TO HOLE UP FOR A NAP, AND THEN SEEING IF I CAN TURN ‘CONSORTS’ INTO ‘CONSCRIPTS’. THEY COULD PROVE A USEFUL DUNGEON-SOLVING TOOL.”
She was sure they respawned. Mostly sure. Kind of sure. Pretty disinterested, actually…
“WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHAT’S NEXT FOR CLARTA LEWARX?”
"Watch out," Clarta began to lazily sign before answering Molide's question, "If you turn your back on them for too long, the trees might come for you. Or, seriously, the imps, or ogres, or the other monsters."
"I'll probably go see my own consorts to see if I can communicate with them. If it works out, I might be able to get some system going as well. I'm thinking 'citizens' as opposed to 'conscripts.' If this is my own world, I intend to make it the best world this side of... S K A I A."
As with most of her feeling currently, Clarta's vast enthusiasm for the opportunities provided by the current situation remained somewhat muted by the incredible speed at which events had developed. What she had, however, was a world of her own to run as she pleased: a veritable laboratory for her social theories. That is, of course, assuming that salamanders proved capable enough to perform as expected in her vast designs. Probably not, most things considered, for a laundry list of reasons, certainly containing but not limited to "bubble-blowing tendencies (cute but weird)" and "definitely not as cool as trolls."
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
Regali blinked. Two seemingly unrelated questions, but both quite important to this Clarta. She reached forward to turn the notepad to face her and scrawled a quick reply to the first question.
You have no reason to hide your words in my presence, speak as freely as you will.
Turning the notepad back to Clarta, Regali leaned back and raised a finger to her lips. Her brow furrowed slightly and a look of great thought and concentration appeared on her face. Her interests?
She had enjoyed her travels and chances to see new places, but that was solely because they were new. Escapes from her situation. Now that she had infinite freedom, any individual location had no specific draw to her.
She liked the cooking she had done - working with plants to create salads was something she’d developed pride in. But those plant species she knew were specially cultivated. And she lived on the move now - had no place to live. Such was her life.
She had always been enamoured with her vision - her ability to see through the tides of fate and glance upon the strands of others. But that was gone. Fancy left with the mountain. The sights and the sounds she was blind and deaf to now.
She enjoyed meeting with people because everyone was a chance encounter. But now she could find whatever she wanted.
The entire world was in her hands now. But somehow that very fact had made everything within the world unappealing to her. Her frown was clearly deeper than it should be, contemplating this question. She didn’t move to answer it.
Clarta continued to regard Regali neutrally while she contemplated her interests. With nothing happening, Clarta began to frown once more. Well, there lied the problem! Fortunately, she now had permission to speak perfectly freely: While Molide seemed to have sent her here to find council and advice, something she was happy to give freely, offering it so directly to someone she'd met only within the hour seemed a little off (at least without permission). Concluding rightfully that Regali was unlikely to add anything else to the paper, Clarta penned her reply.
Correct me if I'm wrong, though from what you have said, it seemed you were quite bored on your mountain. It seems most of your time was occupied by caring for your lusus. Now, you have been able to leave that all behind: You have access to the whole world and no longer need to bend over backwards to ensure its survival. It seems as if you had expected that, in releasing yourself from these things, you would find a "purpose." But, alas, no-- You are just as bored, though on a larger scale? For while perhaps caring for your lusus was a dull and apparently meaningless existence, it was still an activity: yes? And now that it is gone, there is nothing left. I repeat this as I'm still trying to make sense of the situation.
Clarta paused to consider her next paragraph. It was becoming clear why Molide had sent Regali to her.
Not having an answer to my second question makes the situation clear, I believe. You simply need to find what you love. Once you find that, take it, hold it tight, and run with it as far and for as long as you can. When I was younger, I loved a few things: I loved plants, politics, and trollkind as a whole. So, I took them all and I combined them: I built a farm where I could grow whatever I wanted and developed concepts of policies and politics for the proper management of society-- I hope to be an administrator in the Fleet. When I became a little older, I combined them: I applied my theories to my farm and created a business and environment in which I can test my ideas on real individuals, whilst interacting with them on a personal level and, of course, growing plants.
I'm worried that this is not the advice you're looking for, but I'm unsure how to tell you to find what your special thing is. The only solution I can think of is to keep looking and to keep trying new things. When you find that, though, turning it into a viable vision of a future -- a road -- is what I know. If you have any questions, corrections, or anything at all, please: lets keep talking. If you don't, or just want to think more, why don't we step outside, and just look around a little?
clarta lewarx: world's dumbest sucker
Clarta was grinning. Molide sighed. Obviously she’d missed the implication, which was that if the trees — something widely viewed as a reference point for the immobile and constant — could move, anything theoretically could. The game had thus far involved straying afield relatively close to one’s hive, but what if she wandered off and came back and her hive had moved? That could be dangerous.
What if areas of the planet moved? What if rooms in dungeons moved and left you turned around and unable to escape when you needed to? Molide would notice, sure, she was smart and had the benefit of working ears. Clarta would never even know until she was eaten by ogres, and as much as Molide hated to admit it, she was probably a little better off with Clarta alive.
For now.
So she scrambled out the window, got to her feet, brushed herself off, and followed Clarta in. She’d have to get Lewarx’s server to keep a close eye on things, just in case. And maybe to delete her front door next time Molide tried locking her out.
“YOU WIN, LEWARX. HOORAY. HOPE YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT I WAS TRYING TO GET ACROSS," Molide signed, knowing that she unfortunately had not. Alas. One had to ptry.
Full of self-confidence, Clarta only nodded to Molide's statement and moved to take a seat on a nearby comfy chair. Whether she was blinded by hubris or oblivious to paranoia, it was somewhat impossible to say for certain.
"That's my second recent victory over you, Molide. I think you're losing your touch."
Clarta stretchered her arms: talking to Molide was tiring business! She added one more question, however, partially to get both of their minds off the puzzle of the moving trees.
"So what's your plan?"
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
"Hmm," was all Regali expressed as she read the note. There was a lot of words - seemingly Clarta enjoyed the ability to talk about herself. Similarities between friends, Regali supposed.
Writing wasn’t something she commonly did - electronic means of expressing text were far more common in this day and age. But any Seadweller worth their saltwater was cultured enough to put pen to paper. Regali continued to hmm and think as she scripted her own reply. She had no concept of what Molide had sent her here for, but to divine Molide’s way of thinking required the greatest of visions.
And Regali was short-charged on those, these days.
When she considered herself done, she returned the notepad to Clarta, words inscribed.
Hello Clarta. Molide requested I meet with you in order to find the place I belong. Between the eight names she gave me, apparently I’ll find my true self, or some such. I must admit to being doubtful, but at this point I have little else to go on.
I spent much of my life atop a mountain, because my Lusus would not leave my side and thus I was able to contain her and her voracious appetite. She would devour freely without the prison I created for her - I had no power to stop her feasting upon Troll and Lusus alike.
But I am sick of being alone. I am sick of living on a mountain with nothing to do, nowhere to go and no future to aspire to.
So I left it. I gave my Lusus free reign to do as she wishes and was rewarded by control. I am able to direct her. She feeds when she needs to and otherwise follows my will. I thought, finally making it to the Sea, I had gained the life I always wanted.
But it’s yet to fulfil me. I’m yet to find something to bring me the happiness I’ve always wanted. Yet to find a clue to what that even is. Molide seemed quite disappointed by that fact, something that distresses me greatly.
But I don’t know what I’m supposed to learn from you, that Molide is so confident I will. Being unable to see such things vexes me greatly.
It seemed Clarta was not the only one to enjoy talking about herself to great extent.
Reading Regali's reply, Clarta's eyes flew across the paper with practiced speed. Contemplating Regali's story, a small frown moved onto her face, which only grew with intensity as she neared its conclusion. Clarta had to admit, she was as vexed as Regali was-- perhaps even more so considering she was being drawn into this situation without any further understanding of Regali besides what she saw before her now. It was all only made all the more puzzling considering Molide sent Regali to her. While they were certainly on friendly terms, Clarta's lifestyle and base personality were far cries from Molide's own-- Which she would have expected she would direct Regali toward in terms of "finding happiness."
Clarta blinked as she silently regarded Regali, looking up from the paper. Realizing she was still frowning, she quickly changed her expression to one of light positivity before penning her response, though at a slower, contemplative speed.
I have to confess that even I am vexed by Molide's mysterious mannerisms more often than not. I can never quite decide if there's a hidden brilliance behind the madness or if it's just that (madness). As such, while I do have a few sneaking suspicions of why she may have sent you to me, I don't believe I can commit to any in certainty.
As for your situation, it is quite good that you're managing to take control of it. It must have been very difficult to live as you did. While I would not presume to make direct assumptions or comparisons, I believe I can indirectly imagine how it must have been to experience such isolation. You can likely guess why.
Still, you have left that behind. Directing your own life and determining your own path is a near necessary component of happiness-- at least as I consider it to be. From what you have written, it seems to me that the main problem is your distress that you haven't found "your place" yet (an obvious statement to you, I'm sure-- my apologies). I would go on, but I'd like to ask two questions first: Would you like me to speak with complete frankness and express my every opinion, and what do you enjoy? What are your interests?
clarta lewarx: world's greatest sucker
Molide narrowed her eyes as Clarta pulled the key out of her sylladex. Damn the girl’s ingenuity! She should have put something heavy behind it. Still, even if Molide was planning to lose the bet from the start, she couldn’t do it without establishing the point she was trying to make.
She looked around quick for something to distract Lewarx with, but came up short. There was always clambering out the window and tackling her, but that might disrupt things a bit too much. Or… yes, perfect, there was no point messing with the classics, was there? Of course not.
Molide shed her coat again, balled it up again, and launched it at Clarta’s head and/or key hand. Then it was just a matter of leaning out the window, looking dead at the indigoblood, and pointing at the tree she’d been sitting against. While she pointed, she gestured furiously and repeatedly to get Lewarx’s attention:
“IT’S NOT WHERE YOU LEFT IT.”
Being doofed in the head by a balled up coat was certainly part of the general Acanth Experience, but a second time may very well be pushing the envelope. This time, at least, Clarta could be very sure of the source rather than suffering the brief panic of before.
Turning back with a gloriously unamused expression, Clarta quickly caught sight of Molide's excessive gesturing and regarded her for a moment without a single blink of the eye. She had dismissed the notion before, but maybe Molide was going a little crazy (if she wasn't already in the first place (distinct possibility)). Maybe the transition from Alternia to the Land of Rotten Mud and Rotten Meat had knocked out a few screws. Given the chance to reflect on the entire situation rather than rushing about to avoid meteors and build computer classes, she herself would probably be jarred more by the whole situation, Clarta had to admit.
Still, after staring for long enough for her gaze's full effect to fall over Molide, she turned to the tree, regarding it carefully. It did look slightly different than it did a few moments ago: It wasn't where she had left it. Clarta blinked-- While the notion of not being able to hear or see something move at all was somewhat unsettling... Trees were trees. And at the end of the night, trees were not scary at all. Furthermore, as had been concluded, shouldn't change, motion, and development be perfectly fitting of a land named for its growth? Molide was probably just scared because she barely even saw trees in the first place-- pff, seadwellers. Maybe they had some dumb legends that if you made trees angry they'd pull up their roots and challenge you to single combat. Clarta grinned lightly.
"Okay." She turned to completely head inside (picking up Molide's jacket along the way, to allow Molide to lose gracefully). She was must certainly not losing this bet.
Following Molide's advice has never backfired for anyone, right?
"Then we will use the written word if necessary," Regali replied as the lowblood slunk away. Turning back to Clarta, the full meaning of ‘deaf’ communicated itself to Regali that this one would have no idea of what she had just said. Well, if she had any intelligence, she’d understand what was necessary to establish communication. She was the landdweller and Regali the Seadweller, it was only right to expect Clarta to bend to accommodate Regali, not the other way around.
"Or perhaps," Regali stopped in the doorway, standing next to Clarta and looking directly at her, "You’ve the skill for reading lips."
It was excessively odd that this purpleblood would so quickly have a disability such as deafness announced by a lowblood servant. Playing it off as a strange quirk or a desire to use lowbloods as tools would be a far safer action - she had no way of knowing what type of Seadweller Regali was. Even Regali didn’t know that at present. But she’d save that discussion for when speech started. In whatever form it would take. For now Regali stepped inside the hive, followed the direction Clarta indicated and took a seat at the table they awaited for. Folding her fingers together, she silently watched Clarta’s actions.
After simply shaking her head to Regali's attempt to speak to her (which inadvertently answered her question), Clarta too took a seat at the table, sitting across from Regali, and without a moment's delay, produced a notepad and pen from a pocket within her coat and began writing with practiced speed.
As she wrote, Clarta's thoughts did stray to her choice to reveal the situation so quickly as well. It wasn't usual for her: Traditionally, she waited until she had a better idea of who they were, for perhaps a foolish imperialist would attempt to cull her on the spot. Still, for all of Molide's Acanthness, she doubted that she would send someone to her who was expressly dangerous. All things considered, this whole situation seemed almost excessively charitable on Molide's part... ...she had to wonder what the catch was, but that was getting off topic. Given that Regali apparently had no use to speak through her interpreter and it would be massively rude to say "leave and try talking to me on trollian instead," they were left with only one really viable option. ...Though, still: While Molide probably wouldn't put her in danger, she still had no idea what "problem" this one actually had. From Molide's point of view, however, perhaps a "problem," was less of a problem than expected!
Clarta smiled lightly at her mental sick burn, which happily coincided with the completion of her first note over the course of several minutes. Handing over the notebook and pen for Regali's own turn, she folded her hands and waited. Clarta's handwriting would be very neat and flowing, written in elegant cursive: it's very likely, Regali may assume, that she'd had practice doing this.
The note thus read:
Hi, Regali -- It's a pleasure to meet you! As you know, my name is Clarta Lewarx. I am a good friend of Molide's, and her all-too-frequent ashen councilor for all sorts of people whose feet she's stepped on, depending on the day of the week. While I'm normally not quiet so eager to share my condition with strangers who appear on my doorstep having ridden giant flying eels to get there, any friend of Molide's is at least someone I will attempt to welcome warmly.
As Regali read, Clarta watched pleasantly. She didn't need to note, in that part, that if anyone ever did come to try and take her down, she had a whole platoon of lowbloods, several psychic, who would rush to defend her: she was their income.
The note continued: Anyways: As you can see, I run a business here: I hire lowblood workers to work my farm fields, and sell the products. Not only is this a good source of wealth, but I believe that the structure of a job keeps them busy enough to avoid troubles such as rebellion and teaches them obedience that will be a necessary skill in the fleet. Otherwise, I enjoy reading on all sorts of subjects, riding and flying upon my lusus, and, every so often, a game of luck. I also enjoy socialization, when and where I can find it-- As you can now literally see, I have a lot to say(!), but I'll bring it to an end. Please, Regali, tell me about yourself.
