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==> Old guys : Explain perfectly

DH: He was high as fuck. Not as high as he wanted to be, but high enough to get his tablet out, leaving his blunt in his mouth as he braced it agains this forarm and poked at it with his good hand, signing himself on trollian. The cannabis helped a lot. Fuck he was hungry. ..This was harder to manipulate with one hand, it kept wobbling. DH: [devotedHarlequin [DH] has set his mood to Acceptant] [0_0] IG: Latula, all being right with her world, let idleness and contentment while away her minutes and hours; she kept her own phone handy as she wandered within the palace walls, and when pausing to sit in an unoccupied living area, took it online to sign into trollian. On her short list of contacts, few were online, but of devotedHarlequin she took immediate note, and with the tap of a button therewith, opened a conversation. IG: — iusGladii [IG] began trolling devotedHarlequin [DH] — IG: h3y!

IG: ((oh wait if ari wants to watch the thing shall we do the adding?)) DH: ((does she want to watch the thing? if Eri isn't joining I generally prefer to just post logs)) IG: ((i think so, but yeah! log is good)) DH: hey hey lil momma whatchu know good? DH: Well that took too fucking long to type, he whined and snorted a breath through his nose. IG: 1 w4s w41t1ng for you to g3t b4ck. so, d1d you do your th1ng? DH: yeah, yeah I did the motherfuckin thing DH: all sorts of thing doing up in this motherfucker DH: bitchtits amounts of things and also doing IG: you 4lr1ght? IG: th4t's 4 lot of words to 3xpl41n noth1ng 4t 4ll. DH: hahaha I'm fuckin high DH: lil bit IG: th4t 4ll you h4d to do? IG: d4mn, 1 w4s cur1ous ov3r noth1ng. DH: Naw, naw that weren't it sweet momma DH: were having a debt what was needing settled IG: He sure was taking his time. She supposed it was hard to be coherent in that sort of state. IG: d3bt? IG: wh4t k1nd of d3bt? DH: were a thing what was needing done DH: hey you wanna come smoke with me? IG: uh, 1'll p4ss on th3 smok1ng, but 1'll com3 s33 you. IG: 1f th3 smok3 do3sn't sm3ll too 4wful. DH: just smells like a motherfucker is often be smellin anyhow IG: f41r c4ll. 1'll d34l w1th 1t. DH: I've got my ass settled in my respite block on over at th church IG: k. won't b3 long. DH: <3 IG: <3 — iusGladii [IG] gave up trolling devotedHarlequin [DH] — — iusGladii [IG] changed their mood to OFFLINE — IG: She'd dealt with his oddities for a long time. He was predictably unpredictable, but in a way, it had always made things more interesting. Latula, too, had begun to give way to spontaneity, if only for fun's sake. Tangent aside, Latula made her way to the transportaliser, humming contentedly, and within moments, her surroundings had changed-- there was the church, by now a familiar sight. It took not long to find the respiteblock, and with a perfunctory knock at the door, she notified its inhabitant of the interloper's identity; "I'm coming in!" DH: The room was full of second hand smoke, and the enormous subjugglator was sprawled into a pile of stuffed furs and unfinished furs, puffing away, his tablet braced awkwardly against his arm, and the stump of his wrist held against his diaphram. His hair was shockingly short, frizzed up around his face and horns. He looked up, ears perking and grinning hugely around his smoke at the door. IG: Opening the door, Latula stepped into the room, squinting in distaste at the fog of smoke-- nasty stuff, that, used to it though she was-- before approaching her mate. Well, she managed two steps before stopping short. The first cause for alarm was the fact that his previous giant mass of hair was cut short-- very short, shorter than she'd ever seen or expected to see it-- and it looked unnatural on him, so much so that with a sharp intake of air and consequent inhalation of too much smoke, it set Latula into a brief coughing fit. Before she could wheeze any words through said coughing, another oddity about her mate struck her-- the awkward way he held his tablet drew her eyes to his arm, and from there, his... well, the stump of where his hand was supposed to be. ...Inhaling this crap doesn't cause hallucinations, right? No, it doesn't. Of course it doesn't. It took her a good moment, a rubbing of the eyes, a few hesitant steps forward, and finally, kneeling before him, staring at him as if he'd become some sort of alien. "...Where's your hand?" The most ridiculously flabbergasted words she'd ever let come stuttering and stumbling from her mouth. DH: "We aint gotta be talk about that do we? its be gone." he shrugged a shoulder and should his head. .. His head felt weird, light, neck too springy and moving too easily with each motion, combined with the cannibas it made him feel like he was swimming some. He let the tablet fall away anr eached with his good hand and his arm to gather her up and against him and hold her to his chest. There were bandages around it, so it wasn't just magically nipped off or something. IG: She was not reciprocative of being held, though not out of anger or disgust, but simply sheer shock. This felt unreal. Unnatural. She'd seen him with injuries before, and probably worse than this, but-- that was before. Not now. Not when she felt sure in that things were beginning to work out peacefully for them both. "/Where/'s it gone? Did you--??" Did he? Was it the drugs? No way. Then, what..? DH: Shrug. "He prolly kept it, I woulda done." He could keep his forearm around her back and run his other hand through her hair. He was a little too high to care about the way using that arm hurt like a fucking bitch. "It aint being important." IG: He was way too goddamn calm. That 'he', casually spoken as it was, sent a prickle of suspicious anger through her, and she remained taut, alarmed, worried. "Who kept it? ...Did someone attack you? Tell me what happened." She managed to keep her voice level and calm with practised ease. There's no way he'd spill anything if he heard otherwise. DH: He scratched his claws gently around her horns and down the back of her neck, massaging against her spine with his knuckles. "Weren't no one attackin me, aint no one you need to go off an do nor things to. I were settling old shit what were owed to a motherfucker." DH: "..can you be help me maybe to be getting the armor off? I aint be think what I can do it with only the one hand." IG: Her brows furrowed gravely as she bade him sit up straight-- whether he did or not, she started working at his armor, thinking as she did so, and only speaking to ask his cooperation here and there. He'd avoided answering plainly, which meant that whoever did this to him was someone he wanted to protect. The small Eridan, perhaps?-- no, the thought was discounted immediately; he was far too timid and adoring of Harlequin, and there was surely no old grudge between them. An old grudge... She kept her voice, if taut, still patient, by some miracle. "I just want to know. I'm curious as to what-- and whose-- debt could only be settled by something like this." DH: The armor itself was meticulously cleaned, except for an arc spray of his own colour across it from the removal of his hand. He assisted where he could, relaxing as the pieces came away and were set aside, murmuring his thanks to her, trying to cradle his latula against him- perhaps a bit impatiently since he wasn't entirely waiting to be free from the armor to do it. "There were worse he could have asked for, Red mine, wilst not be taking mine word what on this?" IG: She would not let him be cuddly until the armour was properly removed and set aside-- the blood spray did not escape her attention, and only served to solidify her suspicion. "I would if I were satisfied with that, and I'm not." Think. She knew him well enough. Who could he possibly suddenly want to run off and offer his own mutilation to?? DH: He grunted at her and helped her get it all off, stretching out when he was freed of it, and holding her, close against him with a sigh. "it were justly done." IG: "So you keep saying, with no explanation as to how or why!" Exasperation and worry made her voice harsher than intended. The smoke was a far forgotten annoyance. DH: He cupped her face and ran his fingers along her cheek gently, then curled them under her chin and kissed her. "Because sometimes sayin empty words aint enough for the wrongs a trolls done" IG: "Words not being enough is one thing, but-- but what kind of retribution is this!?" His gentle hands and kisses did little to soothe the ire. Justice done-- what justice was there in this? Who would desire such a thing? More than a few, but who would he allow to see it done? DH: "Love, calm. He left me my life, and that were his to claim if he were of a want. The hair'll grow long enough again in time." he purred soothingly at her, a lazy sound. IG: A life for a life? Is that what he felt he owed? As for his hair-- it was hardly an /injury/, but if she knew him well, it would be enough of a blow to the ego to sting. It was ridiculously short, probably even shorter than Cronus'... ...oddly enough, thinking of that, an idle memory sprung to mind. Something seen on said Ampora's blog. Right-- that he had split in two, amusingly enough, though vaguely worrying through the presence of the Orphaner, someone last alive only before Harlequin... A life for a life. Responding to the subjugglator's words became a task forgotten as Latula's pan raced, putting together the pieces of the metaphorical puzzle. Could it be? DH: "Tula?" his eyes searched her face now, as she went quiet and went about thinking so loud in her head she forgot he was there. He rumbled his worry at her quietly when she went so still and quiet and nuzzled her hair. "Tula let it be, please?" IG: There was only a momentary silence, and it was, suddenly and without warning, followed by Latula removing herself from his embrace. She stood, and with eyes burning of what could be likened to a dragon's rage, made for the door. Within moments, she was outside, and then, at the transportalizer; not a few seconds more than that, and the area was empty. She made first for her block. Arming herself was an immediate priority. DH: "Tula! /Tula/ Fuck!" he tried to stand and tripped over his own feet, he was high as fuck against the pain and unsteady. He grabbed his tablet and braced it, tapping at it quickly. [devotedHarlequin [DH] has begun trolling caepaeCaesurae [CC]] DH: motherfucker be online DH: shit please be there DH: think she be headin for you an she aint listenin CC: Not unexpected. CC: The wvarning is nice, though. DH: I were tellin her what it weren't a thing what to do Do: CC: WVhat sort of mood wvould you be in, if she had come to you unexpectedly less? DH: motherfucker dont bring logic into this, I be think shes gon try to murder you CC: I'll try to avwoid it. CC: Does she have trollian? DH: iusGladii CC: Anything else I should knowv? DH: {She hunted your ex kismesis, she took her arm, and her eye, she cornered her and brought her to trial. I believe you would understand the difficulty in these tasks.} CC: { Hard to reconcile. } CC: { I'll try not to be the fool. } DH: {I love her dearly} CC: { I'll try not to be rash, either. } DH: luck with you, srry what for this, as my fault being. CC: { The fault lies wvith Alternia. } DH: And whos fault being, Alternia? CC: { A number of trolls that havwe already died for it. Not nowv, Arlequin, I must go. } DH: luck DH: [devotedHarlequin [DH] has ceased trolling caepaeCaesurae [CC]] CC: [caepaeCaesurae [CC] has begun trolling iusGladii [IG]] CC: Good evwening. CC: Howv are you? IG: After a lengthy moment of silence from the other end, in which Latula, having located her cane, focused on the task at hand and stopped only briefly to check the chat program: -- IG: 1'v3 s33n b3tt3r 3v3n1ngs by f4r. IG: h3 cont4ct3d you 4lr34dy, 1 s33? CC: Seemed concerned. CC: WVhat's on your mind? CC: I understand you havwe some reservwations. IG: no w444y. IG: 1'm 100% f1n3 w1th 4bsolut3ly 3v3ryth1ng th4t's h4pp3n3d th1s 3v3n1ng. IG: no 1d34 wh4t you'r3 t4lk1ng 4bout. CC: Dealing wvith old trolls can be a handful sometimes. CC: Really, your patience astounds me. IG: 1t 4stounds m3, too. 3sp3c14lly s1nc3 1'm 4ctu4lly t4lk1ng to you r1ght now. 1'm busy. CC: I'd be more than happy to explain myself, at your liesure, if it interests you. Preferably online. CC: If that wvon't be necessary, I can leavwe you be. IG: t3ll m3 why 1 should g1v3 you th4t ch4nc3. IG: 4ctu4lly, don't. 1'd r4th3r h34r 1t from you p3rson4lly. CC: Because in addition to being a matesprit, you are a Legislacerator. CC: Stones left unturned wvill bother you. CC: Evwentually. CC: Particularly if you plan to cross a former Judge's judgement. CC: His opinion means so little to you? CC: You do not evwen intend to check? IG: p3rson4lly. m34n1ng f4c3 to f4c3. IG: you'v3 r3h34rs3d your 3xcus3s. 1t shouldn't m4k3 4ny d1ff3r3nc3 to you. IG: 3nough st4ll1ng. — iusGladii [IG] gave up trolling caepaecaesurae [CC] — — iusGladii [IG] changed their mood to OFFLINE — IG: With the program closed, the legislacerator resumed searching through the palace. She was experienced with tracking those whom didn't want to be found, but it hardly made the task a breeze. CC: The real question is, where would she look? There was definitely at least one Ampora door in the palace, but who knows if he'd be in his room or not, and she may or may not know which one was his. There were exits into the city, if she knew the palace layout well enough -- largely through the garden, though there might be some in the basement levels if one looked hard enough. The lower you went in the castle, the more robot-related functions you'd tend to find. CC: There were reclusive places aplenty, from rafters and rooves all the way down through the firmament. IG: She'd no experience with tracking an Ampora before, frustratingly enough: her first guess was higher up in the palace, rather than bothering with the rooms at all. It might've done to ask where anyone had seen him last, but, frustratingly enough, she crossed paths with nobody who could be asked. If it came to having to search the city, that would be a task nigh-impossible, large a place as it was. CC: The rooftop itself was clear, and he wasn't visible in any of the streets she could see from it -- nor were there any crowds of rumor-babbling civilians in sight. He hadn't been on the city streets in the past ten minutes, most likely -- either he was still in the castle, or he was startlingly stealthy. Transportalizer records suggested he hadn't used one of those either, nor attempted it during the time it took her to search. Soon enough, she was sure that the upper floors were clear too. IG: That was the upper floors searched, with no sign of his presence-- a waste of time only redeemed by that it could be then struck aside as a dead end. Her second choice, then, was to head directly down, to storage rooms and dim caverns probably left undisturbed by most. Inbetween the high and low was discounted and left for later, if at all-- hiding in plain sight never worked, and she presumed him to know as much. CC: In one of the doorways leading down into the caverns, Latula found the first faint whiff of smoke, vanilla, licorice, alcohol -- it reminded her of one of the Ampora doors, far above, and it seemed relatively fresh. CC: The trail of a smoker would not be that hard to follow, even in the absense of tracks. Not for someone who knew how. Particularly since it followed old vehicle tracks. It would lead her around a quarter mile through the caves, to a wide open cavern a few hundred feet across, a meeting place where many tunnels crossed and interconnected. Some of them did so at angles, and there were a few that overlooked the main cavern from positions not unlike balconies. There was a faint scrape of a boot from somewhere high up, as her footsteps approached the opening into the large space. CC: He wasn't in direct line of sight when she made it into the space, but he had to be here. He was *right* here, somewhere. CC: And apparently not afraid to hide from a girl. IG: There was a fresh scent in the cavern entrance-- rather, several, blending together in a recognisable manner. Tracking the scent through the caves proved to be rewardingly straightforward a task: there was little by the way of other, distracting and misleading scents or trails of such. Her ears perked as she heard a sound-- faint, but certain, and almost seeming to be in reaction to her footsteps coming within hearing distance of the cavern she now stands in the entrance of. Rather, an entrance of, since several tunnels bore entries and exits throughout. She quietened her step to a sneak. He had to be here, and him seeing her before she saw him could prove disastrous. Ducking back into the previous room, she glanced around above, and began to climb, quickly yet quietly, until she found a tunnel connecting back to the main cavern. Getting a higher vantage point would prove to her advantage. CC: She had to pass through a refueling station for automated delivery trucks to get there, but they seemed very conscientious about not trying to drive anywhere she happened to be. The higher vantage awarded her a better view of some of the openings into the cave -- several were small ledges and hollows that didn't actually connect to anywhere else. Several were empty, but contained a passage or two, leading off into parts unknown. Several were at bad angles, or hard to see. One had a shadow in it. He'd pressed himself against a wall, far enough back from the entrance to his chosen tunnel that he couldn't be easily seen from the opening to it. His hands were empty of weaponry and jewelry; the distinctive armor he and his alternates were known for had been traded out for something plainer and blacker. His fins were flared but still, listening, waiting. He didn't look either direction, apparently equally focused on noticing approaches from either direction down the tunnel. CC: Aside from the fins, his expression was calm. He waited. IG: The passage of trucks allowed her to move more quickly-- they disguised the sounds of her own movements, and allowed for better stealth. At her point of view, much of the cave entrances were visible, but even so, too dimly lit to plainly tell if they were occupied. There was no way to tell from her vantage point if any of the more obscured ones were occupied... Perhaps she could've scared him out-- the toss of a rock, perhaps? --but no, that would've probably just allowed him enough alarm to flee. No good. She began to explore the cave, slowly and quietly, using tunnels and suchlike to make her way through it as indirectly as possible. So far, they were empty-- until she spotted one, not too far, which didn't look entirely unoccupied. Upon closer inspection, that was definitely a dark silhouette, perfectly still... There. Right there. Swiftly, silently, she pressed against the cave's wall, out of the sight range afforded to said silhouette by the tunnel's entrance. Problematic, though. There was an exit on the other side of that tunnel. With no ranged weapons, she couldn't hope to subdue him, and blocking off one end before strafing around to the other would be far too noticeable an action. She would have to rely on her own speed to catch up to him if he were to run. There was no sneaking up on him at that point. Damn, he's smart. Stepping into the tunnel's entrance, in plain view and no longer making a secret of her presence: "I daresay you're not too comfortable, squirreled away in there like that." CC: She drew his attention and his gaze, and something in his shoulders actually seemed to relax. At least now he knew where she was, where they stood. He straightened slightly, easing an inch or two away from the wall -- just enough for his pose to be natural, not enough that he would have to move his feet. He didn't turn his head, but his eyes were hers, sidelong. The nearer fin flicked once, before settling back into a neutral state. The further-away one was still flared. "I'm sure wve can both think of less comfortable places for me to be." He seemed calm, his voice coming smoothly and easily. It had deepened slightly, but age and a slight accent couldn't mask the fact that it was definitely a full-grown Cronus. CC: His hands stayed away from his sides, loose. IG: She approached him, but slowly, each footstep precise and calculated. Her cane, sharp and pointy-ended as ever, was in plain view, and held perhaps a little too tightly with both hands, even if not in a pose that could be construed as directly aggressive. "Hm, seems a bit strange for you to hide all the way down here, comfortable or not... it hardly seems like the act of someone innocent." Casual voice, even observant. Perhaps even unsettlingly so. CC: He tisked softly. "Nowv wvho's been practicing their excuses?" He broadcasted his movements well, making sure none were sudden or startling. One hand came up, palm out towards her, in the universal gesture for 'stop. "That's close enough, mind." CC: "Sometimes it's prudent to lay lowv, wvhile evweryone gets things explained to them." CC: "Though I cannot bring myself to flee, nowv." IG: "I don't find myself much in the mood for explanations. Make it quick." She was not inclined to follow through his request to stop-- a few steps more, probably too close for comfort, before she paused and switched the cane to one hand, letting the sharp end rest on the ground. The unspoken addendum, that she would rather such words be his last, hung heavily in the air. CC: When she ignored the gesture to stop, his eyes hooded slightly - and a second set of transparent eyelids narrowed as well. ...still, he watched her with relative stillness. "...If I'd knowvn you wvere not going to listen, I wvould not havwe let you this close. WVhy wvould you assume that this tale could be told shortly?" IG: "Your problem. Find the words to make it short." Sharp, quick, acerbic words. His were to be regarded with suspicion. Whatever tale he told, and whatever words he spun, true or not-- he had tact, and guile; he reeked of it. She would not let it sway her. She would hold to her own, righteous anger-- and if that was regrettable, there would be time to regret it later. CC: "Tch..." CC: "He handed me his life on a platter for honor's sake, and I did not take it. Despite his assumption that I wvould." IG: "For that he took yours in anger?" She was beginning to suspect as much. He considered it to be justice. It explained his words, and his vagueness-- he knew she would have tried to stop him. Stupid old clown. CC: "And because it wvas ill done -- but yes, at the core of it." The clear eyelids narrowed slightly further -- he did not like how close she was standing, and something about the conversation was starting to tax at his patience. IG: One step closer. He was just about within striking range... she made no move to do so just yet. He clearly wanted her to back off, but she would have none of it. "Feel heroic for oh-so-graciously sparing his life?" CC: The clear eyelids closed entirely, his fins slowly flexing backwards. He stayed absolutely still, breathing his only sign of movement. She had his full and complete attention. CC: "For ending our feud? YES!" IG: With a sudden, swift movement, the end of her cane was again grasped tightly, and swung; in that same movement, the sharp end of said cane was against his throat. It stopped there-- not a direct attack, but a very direct threat. "I don't trust you to remain satisfied with that!" CC: His stance shifted slightly, muscles tensing as her arm began to blur -- but then doing nothing to stop her. The cords of the muscles in his throat stood out stong and tense, gills fluttering then tightening to pull away from the point. The Orphaner forced himself not to move, despite a lifetime of experience shrieking at him to take her wrist and stop this. His fingers tightened, then forced themselves open again, his eyes never leaving hers. He looked angry. Real anger, a heady mix of adrenaline and withheld violence, a reddening in his eyes. She was face to face with ten feet of enraged highblood. He did not move. The Orphaner's voice was strangely soft, a delicate sound competing with the distant echo of an engine and wheels on crumbling rock. "... Howv unfortunate." IG: The Orphaner was a fearsome troll indeed. Perhaps, in any other situation, Latula might have considered the danger of the situation and adapted her stance to defensive-- and she was by no means unaware of it, but as things were, the adrenaline of resentful anger kept her grip unwavering. "Is it, now?" She could've tried to run his throat through, right there, and left him to choke on his own blood. She could, but... why wasn't he reacting? It was unnerving, almost frustrating-- did he /want/ to die by her hand? That he didn't move made her suspect that he had something planned, and it made her wary. Not wary enough to back down, though. Not by a long shot. The sharp edge stayed still, not even an inch from his neck. Then, without warning, she struck. Not for the neck, though. Swiftly drawing the cane's sharp tip back slightly and upwards to his face, she would then, if unhindered, have neatly pierced his right eye-- not deep enough to be a fatal stabbing, but definitely (and quite painfully) rendering that eye useless. The blade would remain a few short seconds, before being pulled back out and away, held closer to Latula for defense's sake. CC: His neck, he would have been prepared for -- but this, his eye, was an entirely unexpected injury. He reared back with a sudden bellow of pain, one hand reaching up to clutch at his face, and the other lashing out in a reflexive attempt to backhand her bodily back towards the tunnel entrance, before she'd even had a chance to withdraw the cane. IG: The stab, as expected, was not anticipated by the larger troll-- Latula found herself being shoved back, and barely managed to keep her feet. The cane was tightly enough gripped that it went with her, albeit yanked out of the damaged eye at an odd angle. His yell of pain was quite satisfying. That would be enough; it would surely scar, after all-- a tiny grin quirked the corner of her mouth as she thought of calling him Triscar from then on. Standing close to the tunnel's entrance, she watched, and waited. CC: Hand rapidly staining purple and face twisting into a scowl, he finally spun to face her squarely. He spat a rapid tangle of profanity in some ancient language, continuing on in modern Alternian even before it had fully translated in her mind. "--Is this to *improvwe* my demeanor?!" Her ancestress was apparently a rather choice pustule on the back of a sickly and deformed mothergrub, if she caught that right. IG: Yep-- quite satisfying. Latula remained where she stood, looking on without an ounce of sympathy, allowing herself a quick chuckle at his stream of furious words. She remained a moment longer to watch him-- then, her own voice, upon speaking up, remained calm and even. "Consider my thanks for sparing his life to be in that I spared yours." With that, she turned, and began to make her way out with calm, even strides. Every applicable sense was attuned to paying attention to behind herself, so that she could dodge any incoming attacks or anything of the like. CC: As she neared the end of the tunnel, finally returning to the ledge that overlooked the floor of the main chamber, the scent of vanilla and smoke hit her, and did its best to push her over the edge. If she fell it would be more than her own height, but less than twice it; a petty gesture. The trail of white, glowing smoke responsible for the strike would linger in the air a moment, then make its way back to its master. Whether it managed its mission or not, the Orphaner turned, cape swinging dramatically wide, and strode angrily away down the tunnel itself. CC: While he was not happy, he would not refuse the chance to end the encounter. There was much that he could not afford, when it came to a fight with Latula. IG: That was a very sudden push, if not quite the retribution expected for her actions. It caught her unexpectedly, and pushed her from the edge--thankfully, she was nimble, and landed on her feet. Honestly, he could have done far worse, and she let it slide, opting to make her way out of the tunnel and out of the cave system altogether. Upon exiting, she first washed the blood from her cane, then proceeded to her block. Trollian was considered, but decided against--there would be time enough to deal with Harlequin's probable worrying later. Her personal sense of justice was satisfied with his ocular maiming, and if he held a grudge, she would deal with that as it came. IG: ((fin?)) CC: (( fin! thank you much for the RP, and sorry again for all the worrying over post speed )) IG: ((thank you both and don't worry! sorry for taking so long, pfft)) DH: ((<3<3 thank you guys))