((The second piece I wrote for the @fantrollszine! This one a little more comedic than the other piece I wrote. And don’t forget, if you like it consider buying me a coffee or checking out my AO3 -- where both of these short stories will be going eventually))
Dontoc wasn’t one for reading romance novels.
Maybe it just wasn’t for him. Dontoc much preferred subversive fantasy steeped in lore and original wiggler’s tales from before the Empire found and censored them. Books that praised the Empire or grounded themselves too close to reality weren’t likely to catch his eye. That’s not to say a romance novel couldn’t be subversive or fantastical -- Dontoc’s sure they existed somewhere -- but his experience in the genre was limited to whatever books he acquired secondhand from either his moirail or his hivemate. Which, to be fair, Dontoc held as little interest in books describing in excruciating detail the ins and outs of traditional interstellar subjuggalator pailing that his moirail found morbidly interesting as he did the godawful romance self-published stories his hivemate regularly printed off from some blog and left sitting around on tables when she got stuck on something in the lab.
Then again this current one he attempted to slog through, recommended by his matesprit to give him a good example of the genre, wasn’t any better. It felt less like a novel and more like a subpar lecture on the importance of keeping quadrants filled and separated, combined with a bizarrely saccharine tone out of place for a novel that critics heralded as “diving into the dark, twisted secrets of forbidden flush love between two castes”. It was no more than yet another creepy realistic-fiction that tried to play off the caste difference as something inherently disturbing.
His so-called matesprit, to give the kindest words to a troll forcing their relationship on life support through thinly veiled threats against his friends, lamented his apparent lack of interest in romance novels indicated a lack of romanticism. Had Dontoc not had sufficient evidence to the contrary, he might have believed her.
I reach across the desk, over to the looming seadweller on the other side and he snatches it out of the air. I flush, face turning impossibly teal under his watchful gaze. How did he know I would try to grab it?
“Okay, that is enough of that for tonight,” he said with a groan.
“Enough of what?”
Even knowing the voice instantly to be the chirpy lilt of his hivemate, Pallia, her sudden entrance into the mainblock still made his heart skip a beat. She plopped down on the seat next to him of the black couch, peering over half-moon glasses to grimace at the book in his hand. She didn’t have to say anything to exude the level of judgement he felt from her.
“You, lover of subjuggalator documentaries, cannot possibly be judging me for reading something bad,” he said lightly.
“Oh come on, Dontoc there’s bad and then there’s this.” She glanced down at the book again. “What’s it even about anyway?”
He shook his head with a sigh, letting the finger holding his spot slip out of the book. “Certainly you could wager a guess.”
“Oh a puzzle?” Pallia shifted around in her seat, turning to face him with crossed legs. She was dressed for ultimate relaxation in a pair of sweats and loose sweatshirt, with her hair pulled up in an unusually well-kept bun thanks to a few well-placed pencils. She contrasted him, tall and fully dressed in a three piece suit with his perpetually unkempt short hair, quite perfectly. Her teal eyes sparkled with mirth from behind the glasses. “Do I get any hints?”
He smirked playfully. “You have not somehow ingested enough bad media to hazard a proper guess?”
“Not for romance.” Pallia crossed her arms and huffed. “God Dontoc, I only have one quadrant. Do I really strike you as the romantic type?”
Did Pallia strike him as the romantic type? Dontoc wasn’t actually sure. With her only having one quadrant, he couldn’t accurately say for sure if such were true, or if he simply never had the chance to see her interact with a quadrant proper. She might not be the same affectionate, teasing troll who went out of her way to make sure he felt included around a quadrant. His doubt might just be his own long-time, latent flush crush on her causing him to project.
After all, he did have a flush crush on her. That much was certain. A sweep or two ago, he might have tried to deny to himself, but by now there was no other way to explain the way being around her made his whole body feel ten pounds lighter and pointlessly giddy at any little thing. His other friendships, even his actual matespritship, failed to elicit similar reactions. The closest was his moirail, Valeba, who always always brought serenity with her presence, but even that wasn’t this bizarre effervescence that floated him away from his anxieties. Not that he’d ever tell Pallia any of this. Managing to get a best friend whom he adored, despite their caste difference, was more than acceptable. To ask anything more was selfish.
“You simply strike me as the type to have read enough bad media, regardless of genre, to take some sort of guess,” he said. “Or have I somehow misread that one and you happen to unironically enjoy ‘Subjuggalating Mentor to Highbloods is Put Under Great Scrutiny after Explaining to Bluebloods the Importance of the Mirthful Messiahs Upon Inquisition. When the Bigoted Seadwelling Upper Staff Wish to Cull Her, She Goes to the Courtblock to Defend Faith In Schoolfeeding, Alongside a Plucky Tealblood Looking for His Big Break’?”
She snorted. “Please. I don’t think a single person unironically enjoys that. How can anything fall face first into every stereotype while acting like it doesn’t? There’s never been a more--” she paused to slap her forehead with an amused groan “--oh of course! The book’s hemoist isn’t it?”
Dontoc grinned. How could he not? “Oh, extremely. The highblood is the dominant one in the relationship, and he is honestly worse than you would expect.”
“Tall, well dressed and…” she tapped her finger on her arm in thought… “indigo? That strength is attractive to a lot of trolls.”
“You are not far off. Think higher.” He gestured upward toward his own twitching fins. “Much higher.”
“Violet? Really?” She looked at the cover again doubtfully. “But this looks like some kind of rich businessman type of story. I thought the violet caste normally keeps to themselves.”
“Oh they do. This book bypassed such a problem by saying he simply moved onto land when he was very young, shortly after his lusus was culled by extreme hemorebels, to get ‘more out of life’. Or perhaps it was not. Honestly, the backstory was brushed aside in favor of having the two stare blankly at each other.”
Pallia raised her eyebrows. “Is the protagonist’s backstory any clearer or is it just as bad?”
Dontoc shrugged helplessly. “If I tell you her backstory, I assure you it will give away her caste immediat--”
“Oh, so she’s a tealblood. Probably ten sweeps old, if they’re playing off twenty sweeps as young somehow. Tiny waif of a troll too, I bet.”
Well. That happened. Dontoc blinked owlishly at her assessment. Every single piece was completely true, down to the size of the tealblood. There’s no way she read the book. He would’ve seen it somewhere. “Um...how...how did…”
“You said if you tell me the caste, it gives it away. Teals and jades are the most rigid in jobs, but jadeblood romance is mostly always two women, while this love interest is male.” It was her turn to smirk, pointy fangs poking out from underneath her lips. “Despite your best efforts, you still gave away way too much.”
“You asked for a hint,” he pointed out.
“You said you weren’t giving it to me.”
He hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. My mistake then. Perhaps we can try this again the next time Careen insists I do some reading.”
Pallia’s amiable expression dropped into a far more worried one. “She insisted? Really? That’sss abssolutely…” she trailed off with a shake of her head. “Ignore me. That’sss not my place.”
Dontoc set the book down on the floor, shifting so he could face Pallia better. She must’ve scooted closer at some point. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed how close they were? It was only a loveseat after all. “Are you certain? After all dear, I--”
“It’sss fine. Ssserioussssly.” She gave him a reassuring smile. It looked somewhat forced, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. Better to just move on. “So, anything else to guess about the book?”
“Hm? Oh, yes right. Let me just, ah...” He reached toward the empty space in his lap for the book, but Pallia got to him first, stopping him with a soft hand. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, a stark counter to her amused one.
“Dontoc you put the book on the floor,” she said with a chuckle.
He glanced down at the floor, realizing with growing horror he most definitely did put it down on the floor. Heat pricked up his neck, causing his lips to twist into a sheepish grin. He wiggled his hand out of Pallia’s to run through his hair instead. If nothing else, the action helped calm his nerves. “So...so I did. My apologies,” he said finally.
She shrugged. “None needed. Do you even need the thing, or is the book that forgettable?”
“I ah...well, poorly constructed story or no, it is comforting to some degree to hold it. After living in what may as well have been a library alone I suppose it just...it just happened.” He sighed, a mixture of bittersweet and wistful. Memories of his childhood flooded back in waves. The lonesome library ran by a kindly jadeblood. Her impeccable ability to find whatever he should read next. The other kids trying to steal and damage them. His instructor taking his copy of The Grimdark Narrator’s wigglers tales and insisting it was inappropriate for him to read it.
Thank God Pallia was there to keep the focus, or else who knows how long he’d reminisce on the parts of his life he’d rather forget. “So you said it’s a violetblood right? And a tealblood? Not any other mid-caste.”
“Erm...yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Though I am not sure why that is important. It is just a caste gap. From what I understand, those are quite common in romance.”
“Oh they are. Totally common. Which is funny, considering it happens anywhere else and people can’t take it.” She pointed down at the book on the floor, the cover of which showed a lone desk covered in papers. “But that’s beside the point. So the teal is probably some personal assistant to him?”
Dontoc nodded slowly. That much was hardly a guess. While in reality tealbloods got well-to-do, white collar jobs, it seems any time a tealblood actually showed up in media, they were subservient to some higher caste. Not the same way the lowbloods were, how many of them were maids or butlers at best, but the paid equivalent of such didn’t feel like much of an improvement to him. “Of course. Did you not know that teals are little more than suck-ups to the Empire? Constantly following around the Empress to compliment her and give her the newest gossip on the common folk. After they round up all the little bad trolls, of course.”
Pallia crossed her arms, smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Did Careen let you in on that hot tip?”
“Oh no, someone far more reasonable in such a regard. Someone with a good head on their shoulders, you see.” Pallia seemed to sag in disappointment until he added, “It was Pothos.”
“Oh my God!” she squealed. Her whole body convulsed with laughter as she fell back into the couch. “You are not allowed to do that again!”
“...Make you laugh?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t think she was upset, but at the same time her worried look when mentioning Careen earlier had him on edge. “You are ah...you are--”
She heaved herself up and nodded, bun askew and grin plastered on her face. “Oh I’m great. I cannot believe you got me to think about that bumbling idiot. Did Careen tell you about when she thought we’d work as a quadrant?”
Dontoc shook his head: she hadn’t. While Careen was always eager to do nothing but complain about Pallia, and had been downright enthusiastic to tell Dontoc all about when his hivemate supposedly expressed flush interest in Pothos that he didn’t return, she never gave any more details. The whole story felt off in a way he couldn’t fully explain (in fact, it was another one he was willing to brush off as him projecting his crush -- sure, he can’t imagine Pallia wanting to be with a troll who truly thought skull shape indicated intelligence but maybe it was only wishful thinking), but he never told Careen such. It was good to know he had every right to be suspicious.
“How did it go?”
Pallia snorted. “About as bad as you’d expect. He learns I have a hint of an interest in something, and just starts talking over me like he’s suddenly the expert. He knows the chemical formula for table salt. That’s it. Wouldn’t know a stem cell from the stem of a plant.” She paused, eyes suddenly going wide. She wasn’t looking at him, not anymore. Her gaze was pointedly focused on that book. “Wait a second. This is her book right? Does Careen have some kind of thing for violets and teals?”
Dontoc rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. She has an odd hatred for teals. Jades too, to a lesser degree. She will not voice it, but it is present. Besides, if she really wanted you to be paired up with a violetblood to conform to her romance tropes, there are far better options.”
Pallia chuckled. “Yeah, at least if it’s like...us, it subverts that ‘teal employed by violet’ thing.”
Whatever train of thought he had immediately crashed. His face burned, and fins fluttering in embarrassment or not, there was no cooling it down in time to reduce the flush. “Ah….uh…” he swallowed harshly, realizing as he spoke his mouth was suddenly dry as sandpaper, “excuse me dear, what?”
“Oh you know. Technically speaking, you’re my research assistant. Not the other way around.” She paused, closing her eyes with a sigh. If she recognized how flustered he was right now, she wasn’t saying anything. “Then again though, considering the whole Preypal thing...maybe that doesn’t count? But sponsorships don’t count as employment. This might be more complicated than I thought.”
“You’ve thought about this before?”
“Well yeah. I mean…” They locked eyes, and he only just noticed the blush creeping on her own face. “I get bored waiting for the ion spectroscopy to finish. The logistics of how our lives would function within a work of fiction is far from the weirdest thought experiment I’ve had. I think that one started with a conversation I had with Aisral? I dunno.”
“But you have thought at length about the logistics of us...uh…”
“Ssssort of? In the same way I’ve thought about like...I dunno, me and Aisral or something. Purely hypothetical. Don’t worry. I realize you’re with Careen and talking about it’s probably strange to think about dating your hivemate...” Pallia trailed off, letting out a quiet, awkward laugh as she rubbed her neck.
“Oh impossibly so, but continue.”
“But seriously, it’s not the most unlikely thing I’ve heard. More likely than anything in that book, anyway. If that makes any sense. Sssorry for worrying you.”
“Think nothing of it.” Okay. So it’s only that they’d make a better story than whatever dribble Dontoc was reading. That’s probably true. While not the worst novel he’s come across, there weren’t many worse. His fluttering pulse calmed down enough that he actually felt he could breathe again. “If it helps, I would much rather read about us than this couple.”
Pallia smirked. “Even the pailing scenes?”
Dontoc’s face fell. He erased those from his memory, too. “Okay, we’re finished here.”
12th Perigee Extra: There’s No Place Like Home For the Holidays
((It took me all the way until Christmas Eve, but I finally managed to end something not on a dissonant note. No this is nearly tooth-rotting.))
Dontoc always loved the feeling of returning home.
It was likely no more than his anxiety needing to return to some place familiar. A place where he didn’t feel like putting on airs of caring about whatever the other highbloods were talking about, when in reality he just wanted to curl up on the couch with a cup of tea and a good book. It wasn’t even the event itself, just the trolls. Highbloods trying to schmooze their way into the pockets of a seadweller. Pompous seadwellers with gaits far too awkward from too many sweeps in the ocean to give them any room to talk. They only increased his desire to return home more than ever.
But this time, it wasn’t exclusively the desire to return home. This was the first sweep where he’d make it in time to see any part of Sandyhorn’s celebration. Every sweep, something always came up that forced him around longer. This sweep however, he managed to keep Careen satisfied enough there was no fight to leave early. He agreed to leave his trunk there (he could regret the decision later), and had her drop him off just close enough to Pallia’s hive he wouldn’t have to listen to her complain too much.
He swung the glass door open, sudden smell of warmth and pine filling his nostrils. Her hive certainly hadn’t been as overly decadent as the host’s of the ball, but he loved it anyway. A rainbow of genetically engineered poinsettias circled a tree that barely avoided the top of the room. It was lit up by small bulbs holding fireflies, their bodies letting off a faint, twinkling glow to the whole thing. It wasn’t the usual troll tradition, but the both of them agreed the tradition was unsanitary and made the hive smell awful for weeks.
As he ran upstairs and toward his respiteblock, the decorations only continued. Garland and silver tinsel wrapped around the railing to the spiral staircase and followed him down the hallway, all the way down to his respiteblock. Underneath each entryway hung some kind of plant, small with bright red berries poking out of sharp leaves, the same one Mayola once pointed out to him had all those quadrant-related traditions. Sekier must’ve put them up. His love with the holidays had always been one bordering on full on obsession.
“Dontoc?”
He stopped in place, backing right into the open doorway of his room with a poorly contained grin. Pallia bolted down the highway, looking like a gray and white blur all the way until her arms wrapped around Dontoc’s waist for a tight hug. “Oh I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re safe,” she said. “I was starting to scare myself.”
Dontoc chuckled. “Pallia, I am not quite the same troll I was when we met. I can actually hold an intelligent conversation now with a stranger.”
“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just…” she sighed and buried her face in his chest. He pulled her in closer, feeling the warmth from her emanate from her. She might have been shaking. He wasn’t sure what exactly got her so distraught, but he also didn’t care. He knew her well enough this is all she’d need.
“Tell me later?” he asked softly.
She pulled away just enough to look up at him with a resolute nod. “Yeah. Tomorrow morning. I don’t wanna ruin your first 12th Perigee back here. Especially not before you get your present.”
“Oh! Goodness, speaking of such, Pallia if you do not mind for a second, I got you a gift. If you want it now, of course. Ah...if not--”
“Right!” She broke away from him, face turning teal. Dontoc tried not to miss the “You uh...I’d give you my gift but it’s buried with everyone else’s.”
“Then we shall take care of it when the time comes. But for now, let me grab yours.” He grinned. “Wait here.”
It didn’t take him long to slide into his room and shut the door to prevent her curious stare for what the present could be. Nor was it difficult for him to find the gift, a lone bouquet of shimmering roses inside a short vase on top of his desk, underneath a tall heat lamp single handedly lighting the room. It stood out like a sore thumb among the shelves of books and stacks of papers that decorated most of his room. Dontoc carefully took them out of the vase and bundled them loosely with a spare purple bow tie before hiding it behind his back. Keep it a surprise, if only barely.
He opened the door, relieved to see Pallia hadn’t moved an inch. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, and when the door opened craned her neck to try and see past his frame, but hadn’t actually moved. He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “Pallia, patience is considered a virtue, you know.”
“So’s curiosity last I remembered.” She crossed her arms. “I cannot believe you’re making me wait. Like, I know how hypocritical that statement is because I’m too lazy to grab yours right now, but still.”
Dontoc gave her a playful smile. The anticipation of giving it to her probably killed him more than it ever would her, but at this point it’s just how they spoke when they were alone. The teasing helped put both their minds at ease. “You could try giving me the magic phrase.”
“Oh, right. You mean the phrase, ‘the longer you wait, the more questions Glacin’ll have’.” She put a finger to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully. “Or was it ‘holding back a present only holds back the inevitable endgoal?’ I’m not sure.”
Dontoc hummed, fins twitching. “Not the answer I was looking for, but you make a fair point about Glacin. So here.” He pulled the flowers out from behind his back, the smile on his face quickly turning sheepish. If he’s lucky, she would accept it and let it go without much conversation. The mere thought of giving her this already made his heart pound. “Happy 12th Perigee.”
Pallia’s eyes widened. She gingerly touched one of the petals, swiping a finger across to find the iridescence remain. No paint needed. “Dontoc...they’re….” she looked up at him, equal parts curious and conused, “not naturally found in the wild. Did you…”
“I ah...well...erm…” he paused to swallow down the feeling of his heart pounding in his throat painfully, “do you remember when you taught me how to implant genetic data into another species to turn it fluorescent? Sometime last sweep, actually. Before everything ah...happened. Well, I did that. But with flowers! After all, Vodnik gets you flowers all the time for holidays so it was a safe guess to say you enjoyed them, but that’s just Vodnik so maybe I was wrong but who knows! And so anyway, I asked Zanchi if I could possibly perform what we did with something other than fluorescence, and well...it spiraled. So yes. Your 12th Perigee gift. It’s flowers.”
“It’ssss rosessss,” she clarified quietly.
If Dontoc’s cheeks weren’t burning before, they certainly were now. “Yes. Roses. Iridescent roses. You ah….you…”
“You remembered me teaching you that? All of that?”
“I...well of course. The steps are in my room, still taped to my desk.” His fins fluttered harshly against his face. “I even remember writing in my notebook if it was at all possible to impart other nature of fishes into microbes, however we had been interrupted by Mayola and Volcor before I had a chance to ask.”
She brushed her hand over the petals again absently. They turned from greens and blues to deep violets with no more than the barest touch. Her other hand rested overtop his, making no real attempt to take the flowers away. “And you kept it secret for perigees.”
“Not so when we barely see each other,” he said lightly. “Hopefully you like it? I-I mean, you haven’t uh...haven’t said--”
“Dontoc, this might be one of the single most thoughtful gifts anyone’s ever gotten me. Seriously. There are no words to properly...wait. No. I know.” She looked up at him with a shy grin. Her expression seemed not entirely on him, but above him somewhere. “Can you um...lean down? Just for a second. It’ll make this easier.”
Dontoc laughed. It was an odd request, sure, but hardly a difficult one to appease. “Make what easier? Giving me a proper hug?”
She smirked. “Not quite.” In the blink of an eye she leaned up, a feather-light touch of warm lips pressing against his cheek for the briefest second. And just like that, it was gone. She was back in front of him, face as darkly teal as his must’ve been violet. “But closssse.”
“Pal...Pallia, that ah, well, uh--” he swallowed thickly, failing to push down the lump in his throat.
“No worse than giving me rossses for 12th Perigee,” she said cheekily. She took ahold of the roses this time -- actually the roses, not just his trembling hands -- and pulled them gently out of his grasp. “Gimme a sec to get sssome water for these, then we can meet up with everyone just in time for the next wave of celebrations. Sound good?”
“I shall await your return with bated breath.”
“Good. I’m honessstly ssso glad you're home.” With a quick nod, she took the roses and seemed to prance down the hallway toward the kitchen. Dontoc waited until she was out of view to press a hand to his flushed cheek. That...that happened. Somehow. Initiated by her. On 12th Perigee, no less. It didn’t sound real in the slightest, yet were it a dream, he would’ve been violently ripped away from the scene at this point. But he wasn’t. This was real life. He wasn’t sure if it boded well for the two of them, but it was the 12th Perigee. He could focus on it tomorrow.
After all, he had a countdown to make his way to tonight.
((Alright, and of those that were both planned and written, this is the last one! I’m gonna do one more at least on Saturday, but I have to wait for the King/Queen announcements for that one obviously, and while it’s gonna get counted offically as an extra, that’s only because it’s not getting written at the same times as these. Like I said before, if these actually get some traction I might write up some of the other extra scenes I cut to preserve my sanity. Much like the last piece too, this one’s song is very obvious. It’s a cover version of Something, originally by the Beatles. The specific one I mentioned is closer to Frank Sinatra’s cover, but not exactly. I took some liberties.
And for the final time: if you are not okay with unhealthy relationships, this is not the ficlet for you.))
Careen closed her eyes, letting her head rest upon the chest of her matesprit. What could she say about this night that hundreds of other trolls, be they esteemed singers or romantic poets of old, hadn’t already said better? She had her pitfalls, certainly. Her matesprit’s other friends, boorish landdwellers that they are, had a peculiar habit of causing problems anytime the two were together and encouraged him to act out for no good reason. The blueblood from earlier, the lovely and dutiful Skasol, left after the fight, citing a need to return to his own partner for the night. Careen assumed such was an easy way to escape from an uncomfortable situation without losing too much shame. Not that she needed him, anyway. When her matesprit returned from cooling off his degenerate of a moirail, he remained by her side as a good matesprit ought to. The only hiccup to an otherwise perfect night, and one she managed to resolve peacefully with him through being so generous as to spend some extra time with the rustblood.
On second thought, there was one more. She probably shouldn’t invite Siroet to come out with her next sweep. If nothing else, get her set up on a blind date to keep her wrangled in. Her friend was unfortunately incapable of stopping herself from inspiring black infidelity in scores. Which Careen would have less of an issue with if said (usually lowblood) partners weren’t also coming up to Careen and forcing her to explain that’s just how Siroet is and they shouldn’t think anything of it. While not one large issue, it was certainly several small issues that amounted to a consistent thorn in her side. Still better than the downer attitude Pothos put up, but not exactly by much.
And the music, despite the orchestra being less an orchestra and more a backing band for guest singers to appease the landdwellers, was still divine. Granted, Careen missed most of the earlier acts while she rested in the VIP room, but she couldn’t find a single flaw in their current musician: a sharp dressed tealblood in a black trilby crooning a gorgeous song about his matesprit. He kept the song slow, at a perfect tempo she could just curl up around her darling matesprit and just forget the world. Nothing fast. No blaring trumpets or honking saxophones to rip her out of her trance when a chorus of string instruments can sound so much more appropriate for this event. As it should be.
The only way such could be more flawless would be if he serenaded her while they danced. Maybe he was, just too quiet for her to hear over the singer? She hoped so. He might be on the shy side, but Careen knew he had that spark for romanticism. It’s part of why she wanted him so desperately after meeting him: he was so close to being an ideal prince for her, he only needed that push. Let go of all his lesser qualities to mold himself the way she wanted: the same way she managed to with Atenic and failed with awful little snake.
Plus Careen had to admit, she was a sucker for a fixer-upper.
Careen’s eyes fluttered open for a minute to gaze lovingly back up at her matesprit. His own eyes were closed, and his lips tightly shut. So he wasn’t singing. That's fine too, she supposed. Disappointing certainly, but….fine.
“Darling, can you sing?”
His eyes shot open to look at her quizzically. “Careen we have talked about this,” he said quietly.
She curled up further into his chest. “And what was the answer?”
“I ah...well, I cannot. Not well, at any rate.” He smiled sheepishly. “Unless one includes an ability to talk-sing? If so, I am adequate.”
“No, I don't,” she sighed. This is what she got for taking him as a quadrant long before he was ready. Almost five sweeps and he still couldn't sing? Every seadweller could sing in some capacity. The arts were always massively important, and no self-respecting noble ignored it.
But Careen was also patient, and considering how considerate he was tonight, she'd bring it up another day. For tonight, she simply rested her head back on his bony chest and made a mental note to talk to him later about it.
“You’re asking me, if my love grows. I say, I don’t know. I don’t know.”
She could hear the waver in the singer’s voice. Cover or not (Careen hadn’t bothered to commit whatever drabble he introduced his set with, but she thought he said his only performances would be covers), he had a matesprit whom he adored the same way she did her own. There was no other answer. One they must have anticipated as well, if the slowing instruments and break in vocals was any indication. She understood enough about the ins and outs of performance to know how likely that was.
He gave Careen the window for a slow release and twirl for the tempo change, one which she graciously accepted. There was no better way for them to properly slow down, no better way to truly showcase the sheer, sparkling overlay to her red velvet dress than letting her spin underneath the twinkling 12th Perigee lights around them. Or if there were, the host of the ball hadn’t thought of it. A pity, but to be expected. She can’t anticipate a landdwelling troll of any kind to have the same level of foresight she does, delusions of seadwelling grandeur or not.
Speaking of the host, shouldn’t the submissions for king and queen be in yet? She thought last sweep there had been some sort of announcement for submissions and votes. Yet tonight, she hadn’t heard anything. Not that Careen particularly cared for submitting herself, of course. She was kind enough to let some other troll feel like royalty for a single dance and prance around in an oversized, wiggler-worthy crown for the rest of the night. And her matesprit? Ignoring how such titles were largely won through popularity than anything else, and her matesprit’s refusal to socialize with those to gain the recognition necessary, he wasn’t exactly ball king material. Careen had done her research. The winners were celebrities. Charming. Artistic. Popular. All things he wasn’t, no matter how much she tried to change that. Thankfully for her, his asocial tendencies discouraged him from ultimately disappointing himself. No worrying he’d take losing personally and mope about for the rest of the night.
Then again, maybe he did care. Careen’s almost certain she had caught his eyes glance over toward one of the far tables, all the way in the back of the room away from the rest of the event, for notes. Her matesprit surprised her like that sometimes, cared about ideas and concepts that she’d never expect someone like him to care much about. He already expressed interest in dancing with another troll once, tonight. That only set up the beginning of what may be a worrying trend. Plus, she failed to see the point in not asking. It would be good to discourage him from making such an awful decision that could ruin tomorrow night.
“Dearie, I have a question.” She paused, and with a shake of her head added, “actually...two.”
Her matesprit slowed their dancing down again, letting the two of them talk easier. “Hm?”
“Do you know when they’ll announce the vote?” She dropped her face to the floor to better look up at him with her winning doe-eyes. “I’m afraid I forgot.”
“Ah...erm…” he blinked harshly in confusion as he trailed off uncertainty. “No? Afraid I hardly know what you are talking about, quite frankly.”
Here it was. The moment of truth. No going back from this question. “So...you don’t want to be the Ball King?”
The fingers that loosely kept hold of Careen tapped against her own skin. “The...the what?”
“Oh you know,” she said, freeing up a hand just long enough to push her hair back behind her fin, “the 12th Perigee Ball King and Queen. They had it last sweep. I’ve just noticed you eyeing the box at points in the night.”
“I was...I was eyeing it?” He sounded confused. Careen knew better. She knew he was trying to hide his interest.
“Well...yes.” She sighed. “If you really, truly want to nominate yourself, I suppose you can, but really I must advise against--”
She was interrupted by a sigh. “Careen, I assure you, if my lack of memory does not give it away, I am not one for schmoozing and politicking to win a dance with a total stranger.”
She had to resist letting out a huff. So he wasn’t interested in the nominations. That’s fine, too, she supposed. He couldn’t have sounded more rude toward her attempt at being helpful, but it was fine.
And anyway, she wasn’t interested in the Ball nominations to nominate him. Not even to nominate her friends. She only wanted to cast her vote she truly felt deserved it. Unlike last sweep, with the bottom of the bottom winning. Had they worked for it? Really worked? Impossible. Lowbloods didn’t work the way any other blood color did. They lacked the strength.
“Something in the way she knows, and all I have to do is think of her.”
Her matesprit sped back up to match with the song. She let her arms slide down, around the bottom of his waist. She felt him tense in surprise underneath the coarse tweed of his suit.
Careen frowned deeply, fins drooping. “It’s just me. No reason to freak out.”
He looked down at her with a confused expression. “I ah…my apologies.” He shook his head. “I erm...was un-unaware…”
“It’s fine, darling. It doesn’t upset me in the slightest. That being said,” her hands wandered down to his rear to rest. No grabbing. Not yet. But the night was young. “A healthy dose of fear is completely normal in our society, don’t you think?”
Her matesprit hummed. Not an answer, not really, but Careen loved the feelings of the sweet, soft vibrations the noise sent up her fins and down her spine. Moreso, anyway, than whenever he spoke with that posh voice of his. Not that she disliked it when he spoke of course. In fact, she very much loved hearing it when she wanted to. So long as the two weren’t physically close, she even preferred just hearing his voice. Undoubtedly, it was Careen’s favorite thing about him.
And even more than that, she loved the intimate silence that followed. The singer’s crooning quieted down to little more than a whisper into the microphone. The band played a few more bars, but they too needed to end the song eventually. Her matesprit gave her a final twirl and parted, bowing.
“Perfect gentleman as always, Dontoc,” she cooed.
He answered not with words, but with a smile. It looked somewhat forced, but that was okay. It was her night, after all, not his. He was here with her now, treating her just like the princess she actually was. A dutiful matesprit. Exactly what Careen, the rightful Heiress, always deserved.
((I didn’t exactly have a song set in mind for this, but I figured when the bar was open is when there would be a transition from traditional ball music to some other stuff. As such, something like Harlem Nocturne seems to be as good as anything else))
Calm.
That’s how Valeba felt. After such a vicious blow up, it was a weird feeling. Generally threatening the Heiress, at least whenever she threatened Mayola, got her thrilled. Jittery with a horrible combination of glee and adrenaline that she couldn’t feel anywhere else. And getting in fights with highbloods otherwise only gave her the second half. The fact that such a peaceful sensation came about after plopping herself in one of the plush bar stools only equated to a couple things: not having to continue staring at the inhuman blight named Careen, and finally getting to threaten the stupid bitch the same she way she’d done to Valeba on numerous occasions while getting away with it.
And no one had stopped her. Sure, Dontoc reminded her that Careen might try to get her thrown out if Valeba jumped her, but other than that? Nothing. Hell, even if she were to die today to drones, she’d die happy, living at absolute max satisfaction. She threatened a highblood. A seadweller. An Heiress. No one got to do that every day and live to tell the tale, especially at some fancy shindig where her major weapon had be hung up against a wall. That alone helped the anger boil away the second she walked away from the whole scene. Now, if she could follow through on those threats tonight, she’d probably be in nirvana, but she could settle for her current serenity given the circumstances.
A cold hand touched her shoulder briefly, long enough to alert her of someone’s presence, accompanied by a soft, familiar voice. “Valeba, it’s Dontoc.” She grinned. She hadn’t expected Dontoc to get out of that mess. Hell, she didn’t expect herself to get out so cleanly. The holidays must make Careen soft. Valeba couldn’t think of any other reason. “How are you doing?”
“Let’s just say, every second I don’t have to look at her brings me closer to those stupid purpleblooded Messiahs.” She gestured toward the empty seat to her left for him to sit down. When he slid into the chair, she gave him a reassuring smile. “Seriously, I’m doing alright. Just needed a second to breathe.”
He frowned. “Are you certain? Valeba, I don’t want you telling me you’re okay just to make me feel better. You were ready to murder Careen. Not that I blame you, really, I don’t, I just also very don’t want you to die. That would be on my head and--”
“I’m serious, dude.” She gave him a playful, light punch on his shoulder. “I just got to say things lowbloods only get to say in sopor-induced fever dreams to her goddamn face. This has been a long time coming.”
“I figured. It’s why I didn’t stop you until it began to leave the realm of empty threats. I don’t want to see you get thrown out because she’s being unreasonable. And anyway…” he trailed off with a chuckle and a shake of his head, “You should’ve heard me after you left. I managed to get her to shut up about me wishing to talk to you.”
“No worries. I get it.” Valeba shrugged nonchalantly. Actual culling Careen hadn’t been on the forefront of her mind when she made those threats. No more than usual, at any rate - rarely to never, all the way until she was forced to see the seadweller again. “I think I only got so pissy because it’s not the first time this happened tonight, ya know? Fuckin’ fish named Siroet.” When she saw Dontoc’s wide-eyed shock, she hurriedly added, “I didn’t do anything, mind you. It just happened.”
“No, no it’s just...Siroet? She threatened you?” Dontoc exclaimed. She heard a groan from next to her and she swiveled in her chair to find his head in his hands on the bar stool. “God, of course. I can’t believe. Do you think it was planned? I hope it wasn’t. I don’t think I could take the rest of tonight if it was. She probably knows I’m planning on getting out and is--”
“Look, as glad as I am to hear that--” She placed a hand on his shoulder, feeling the small trembles of his body. “--I don’t think the chumbucket knew who I was. If that helps.”
“Only marginally,” he groaned. “You heard her. Careen’s barely hiding what she’s doing anymore. She tried pulling this shit again right around Atenic. I’m just...exhausted. I need out.”
“And you will. She smiled warmly. “I’m in Sandyhorn now. We’ll get you a solid out.”
He looked up quizzically. “We?”
“Yeah, you know, me and Mayola. The only two so impulsive it might rub off on you.” She laughed. “Anyway, you said you told her the fuck off tonight. Who knows, maybe it’ll be easier for you to see me now.”
“Yes, that is...that is true. And I think after this she will be on good behavior.” He sighed in relief. “Thank you, dear. And also, my apologies. I came here expecting you to need calmed and not…well…”
“No problem.” Had they not been sitting down just far enough away, or had the bartender not been eyeing them the longer they went, Valeba would’ve hugged him. For now though, she just patted his shoulder. That’s smarter than arguing with some random troll about pale PDA. “Now, how long is Careen expecting you?”
“I actually did not give a time. And Atenic is keeping her distracted in the VIP room, so probably some time from now.”
Valeba furrowed her brow. “Atenic?” How many trolls did Careen drag along? She met Siroet already, and she knew according to Mayola, Careen’s other seadweller friend was around here somewhere, but she didn’t have a face for Atenic. The only two options were the big indigoblood, or the much more petite cobalt in the snowflake dress. “You mean the one that looked kinda like--”
“Pallia?” Dontoc grimaced. “Yeah. But I do not wish to think about such. I think I just want a distraction.”
She smirked. “Good. Because Mayola’s holding back until the orchestral stuff ends. Plus, I think I’d like to ask my moirail for one last dance before he gets stolen from his wicked quadrant for the rest of tonight and tomorrow.”
He laughed, fins twitching against his face. It sounded sharper than usual against Valeba’s ears, but still genuine enough that she could say he felt better than before. “Well Valeba,” he said cheekily, “you asked just so nicely I hardly think I have the heart to refuse.”
((Aside from “Dance of the Fuchsiablood Fairy, this is my most clever title. Doesn’t get better than this. And if bad friendships are a squick or trigger for you, please skip.))
Some trolls lived the high life. Swinging off chandeliers with seadwellers, drinking the finest Faygo with clowns, feather boas and pretty trolls lounging on pianos as servants in tuxedos played rhapsodies on the ivories. This was true of Atenic’s friends, all of whom adored it. Pereon loved the dark, slinky dresses in elegant masks where she’d take business partners for mysterious affairs. Siroet loved the colors and entertainment scattered abound for her to find. Careen reveled in the atmosphere, the dancing and overall aesthetic of flaunting her infinite wealth. She didn’t know much about Dontoc, but anyone who comes from the underwater City of Twinkling Lights must enjoy the high life. And Pothos...well...Atenic mostly avoided thinking about him.
Did Atenic enjoy the high life? That’s a hard question. On one hand, not only did the high life enjoy Atenic; but she also hated all the boisterous, drunken, bloody parties found among lowbloods where she couldn’t even wear a pretty new dress from Kordof. She loved going out and enjoying time with her beautiful friend, Careen, which made these events fun despite the crushing anxiety that occupied her thoughts the minute Careen went away. A shame that was guaranteed at any socialite event. And when Careen was absent, Atenic felt a crushing emptiness in her bones unlike no other. It made the same nights she’d adore now impossible to enjoy. Trolls like Siroet or Pereon didn’t fill the hole the same way Careen did. So at best, she’d file her answer down with little more than a solid maybe.
This also meant tonight was no exception to the rule. This time, Careen finally managed to convince her unwilling matesprit to go out and actually enjoy the night with her for once in his life. Judging by their lack of return to the table, he succeeded at such. Siroet already left off in one of her usual Siroet-tantrums some time ago. And Pereon disappeared some time after Careen to discuss business with well-to-do highbloods in snug outfits. Only Atenic remained at the table to sip expensive punch and pick at crumbs of triple moobeast milk crumb pastry. Unlike the rest of them, she’d prefer to stay in the VIP room away from general populace lowbloods. Lowbloods meant trouble. They jeered at Atenic, despite her caste, when she couldn’t hear. Careen was adamant of such.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, pushing around crumbs in complete silence to keep away her dejection, before a chilly hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see Pereon standing behind her, smiling politely down. Another troll, a rather toned and meek-looking indigoblood who stood taller than Pereon’s own hair, stood next to her. The indigoblood’s arms rested behind her back. “Atenic,” Pereon said sweetly, “you should enjoy the ball. It’s not every day you’ll see a landdweller host like this.”
Atenic glanced down at her food, nodding absently. She liked Pereon, but Pereon didn’t understand. No one here did. None of them understood the impossible challenges Atenic experienced when Careen wasn’t around. She was...what was the word? Antisocial. Atenic was antisocial.
She craned her neck up again. Pereon was dressed as beautiful as ever, dressed in a two piece dress with a long, two tiered purple skirt and short, lacy halter top. “I am enjoying the ball. The food is very good. And I love wearing this dress! It makes me feel like an eight pointed snowflake!”
Had she been standing, she may have swished her dress for emphasis, but she settled for squirming around in her seat. It might’ve been a shorter dress, but the cute snowflake pattern on the skirt, pale blue ribbon and sheer, sparkling cape made Atenic feel like a true lady of winter. Kordof never failed in making her feel she danced around in other troll’s daydreams.
The indigoblood next to her snickered behind her hand. Pereon, though, she was too respectful for that. She merely quirked her arched eyebrow high enough to blend into her hairline. “Atenic, you do realize snowflakes have six sides, right?”
“Oh.” Where did she learn that? Must’ve been from some cheesy novel. “Sorry Pereon. You’re so smart.”
Pereon patted her shoulder. “It’s fine, little one. Anyone in your position would’ve made the mistake.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” Pereon ruffled Atenic’s hair, right between the small, curved horns on her head. “Perfectly normal mistake for landdwellers. It’s why Careen took you in out of the goodness of her soul.”
“Yeah...she did.” Atenic smiled bashfully as warmth flooded and added the barest amount of blue to her face at the memory. Long ago, probably at least ten sweeps at this point, Careen found Atenic hanging around the lower castes and brought her in. Careen brought Atenic into the light of seadwelling society. Atenic learned everything Careen put in front of her, lapped up the praises and criticisms in equal fervor, remembered and internalized every facet until she perfected it to get where she stood now.
“And I’m sure Careen would appreciate if all the help she gave you was put to use.”
She frowned, kicking her legs underneath her chair as Pereon’s hand disappeared. She didn’t like it, but Pereon did have a point. Standing around here waiting for Careen disrespected the hard work she did, not just for the work Careen did in the past couple perigees for her, but for all the work Careen’s done for her in her life up to this point. “Yeah…maybe you’re right.” Atenic stood up, smoothing the skirt of her dress down. “I think I’ll go out on the ballroom.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” She patted Atenic’s head a couple more times before taking the indigoblood’s hand. “You’ll know where to find me if you need me.”
Atenic nodded silently, eyeing them as the two sauntered back toward the orchestra. She wouldn’t need them. Atenic was an adult troll, long past her seventh sweep ordeal and everything. Anxious tendencies or not, she didn’t need Pereon’s help just to go find a specific troll, especially when she knew exactly where that troll would be.
Atenic scuttled her way into the main ballroom in a hurry, rushing past all sorts of lower casted trolls flitting in her way. The music’s quick tempo spurred her footsteps faster, faster toward her eventual goal. She had to be here somewhere important. Find someone important. But where was she? Amid the twirling capes and glittering adornments, she couldn’t make anything out. Nor could she find an easy way in. Not with the sheer volume of trolls. If she wanted to do anything without making a scene, she would have to wait until they thinned out.
“I simply cannot abide this betrayal of my sensitivities!!”
The voice rang out above everything else in the room, clear as day. Atenic didn’t have to see the source to know who it was.
Careen.
All worry of causing trouble washed away. She squeezed between a couple greenbloods doing some odd dance to get into the dance floor proper, frantically darting her head around to look for the voice’s owner. Surrounding trolls, mid and lowbloods mostly, danced on, blocking off Atenic’s line of sight. The curse of being a smaller troll: even when the trolls were distinctly younger and lower casted, she couldn’t see past them. But then again, she knew Careen. She knew Careen better than any other troll knew her. She knew how Careen needed to stay in the public eye in these difficult times, what with that other tyrian pink troll making a calculated effort for Empress.
She pushed her way toward the orchestra. A few trolls resisted, but she was a cobaltblood. No reason not to take advantage of such. Especially when the trolls who pushed back looked like nosy tealbloods thinking they deserved better for being a higher midblood. Someone had to remind them of their standing. May as well be her.
When she arrived, she found herself standing on the edge of what looked to be some kind of standoff. On one side stood Careen, in all her beauty, next to a tall highblood in a rather fru-fru FLARP suit. On the other side was Dontoc in that odd suit with some rust dressed in blacks and bright reds Atenic didn’t recognize. Despite the lack of trolls paying attention to them, none of the four appeared to notice her arrival to the scene unfolding in front of her.
“I just can't fucking fathom why you're being possessive over the pale quadrant!” the brownblood exclaimed. She threw her arms in the air for emphasis as she added, “ The hell do you think you are?”
“Last I checked, I am the Heiress--”
“Yes, Careen. We know.” Dontoc sighed in exasperation. He looked tired. Moreso than before they left, anyway. “That being said, heiress or not, I am allowed a dance or two with my moirail of five sweeps.”
“I was your first quadrant!” Careen stamped her foot on the floor. “I deserve to have him for the event. It's what I deserve after everything I've given him.”
With a shudder, Dontoc looked down at the floor in silence. He almost appeared to curl inward on himself, drooped fins and all.
At the same time, every aspect of brownblood bristled. Her posture straightened, her gaze angry and hateful, the fingers at the side of her body that didn't take his hand twitched violently. “If I'm being honest, I think you deserve to have me shove my boot up your frilly waste chute but you see me parading around like I own the place,” she said darkly.
Finally, the indigoblood standing next to Careen registered the conversation. He pointed at Dontoc and said, “Control your moirail! She should realize who she speaks to.”
With a huff, Dontoc pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ignoring how wildly inappropriate you are every time you speak, especially now, why are you here? This does not concern you.” He jerked his head up. “Unless you are attempting to get something from us.”
The brownblood seemed to mutter something under her breath, but Atenic couldn't make it out over the indigoblood sputtering, “I would never do such a thing! I feel only that I give my Heiress what she deserves!”
Careen craned her head up to the indigoblood with a particularly indignant look. “What I deserve is my matesprit and I don’t know why you’re so insistent on anything otherwise.”
Atenic frowned. She deserved so much better than Dontoc. She deserved a troll to be there for anything and everything. Dontoc didn’t have the emotional energy to live with her full time and be there at any minute when she needed him. He lacked the patience. The gentle temperament she showed towards those lower than her needed to be returned to her in full.
She cautiously nudged herself out of the edge and into the center of the four of them. Her focus fell only on the Heiress. She didn’t care about any of the other three of them. “Hey, hey Careen?”
She didn’t have to look at the other two trolls to feel the daggers on her back. Careen though, Careen watched her with curiosity. “Atenic, I’m surprised you made it out,” she said. Her gentle tone soothed Atenic, calmed her anxieties the same way a good cup of hot chocolate does. “What is it you need?”
“I just want to say I agree with whoever the big scary blueblood is. I think you deserve better too!”
Careen sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s great you feel that way, but really Atenic what I deserve is well...you know.” She gestured toward the two trolls behind her. “Someone like Dontoc.”
“A damn shame that what he deserves--”
“I would silence your tongue before I cut it myself,” Careen sneered. “Remember who you speak to, rustblood.”
“Bold words for someone trying to look pretty and nice for the cameras,” the brownblood threw back. “If you want to fight me, actually come over here and do it. Otherwise? Just shut the fuck up.”
“Oh please I have a sense of self respect. Unlike yourself,” Careen scoffed. She flipped her hair behind her shoulder. “Truly, Dontoc should have a troll who actually cares about what he wants.”
“That’s rich considering--”
“Valeba,” Dontoc sighed in defeat, “stop.”
Atenic whipped her head around behind her to Dontoc and the other troll. The lowblood looked upset, but the glint of murder in her eyes faded into a general glare directed toward her moirail. Dontoc took her hand as he leaned over to whisper into her ear. She frowned deeply, but the her expression softened into...something. Or maybe it didn’t so much soften as return to a neutral state. With the resting bitch face, Atenic couldn’t tell. “Right. Yeah. You’ll know where I’ll be,” she said quietly, quietly enough Atenic could barely hear it. She looked up to Careen with a scowl and before she left, growled, “Do understand though, if it weren’t for the restrictions put upon me for tonight and tomorrow, I would have culled you here and now. She sharply turned on the heel of her foot and walked out before anyone could stop her. The sea of trolls nearby them parted like an ocean as she moved.
Careen made a motion toward Dontoc, but he stepped back. “Careen? I suggest you let me go talk to her.”
“But Dontoc, this is your fault! You let that nasty lowblood into your life, and see how it’s turning out? I should just end it--”
“I don’t think she cares,” he snapped. His fins grew, making already large fins take up a good chunk of his face.
“Well maybe I care!”
“And perhaps, the last time you cared that I danced with a troll who holds no interest in women, you got possessive despite cavorting with…” he looked over to the indigoblood with a raised eyebrow “...numerous curiosities. So do what you will tonight, but understand unless you plan on making this drawn out, you are rather limited to tormenting me like last sweep, and such is a bullet the both of us know I will take. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to speak to her and calm her down proper before you must deal with the beloved kismesis of the only other Heiress competing. The same one looking for an excuse to cull you. Who is also here tonight.”
She stepped closer, seemingly unaware Atenic was in front of her as she only focused on her matesprit. “And what about everyone else? About--”
“Then maybe this time, you should have thought about someone other than yourself. Because I have. And this is, quite frankly, possibly the path of absolute least resistance for you, and yet you still threaten me. This will take a whole five minutes, and then I shall remain with you for the rest of tonight and tomorrow.” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “Do you not understand that?”
Atenic looked frantically between the two of them. Should she...should she do something? She’d heard Careen complain about Dontoc before, but she’d never actually seen them fight. And what did Dontoc mean by threatening? Careen hadn’t threatened him. She hadn’t threatened anyone.
“Uh...Careen, maybe you can spend some time with me!” she blurted out. “Until Dontoc’s back, at least.”
Dontoc’s fins shrunk as he stared at Atenic, flabbergasted. “Um...if you wish, I suppose? Erm, thank you. Assuming it is, ah…” he looked up at Careen. “Is that a suitable compromise?”
She released her crossed arms with a huff. “That can work, yes. And if this doesn’t come back to me, Dontoc, I guess I’ll make sure your little quadrant doesn’t get thrown out.”
He nodded, and as he turned around to walk away, Atenic could have sworn she saw him roll his eyes. “Of course, dear. Always so forgiving,” he remarked dryly. “I will meet you in the VIP room when I’m finished.”
Careen’s face brightened up. Dontoc was right: she was just so forgiving. “Okay darling! See you there! Come on Atenic, we shall dance in private. I know how you dislike crowds.”
Dontoc nodded, but Atenic wasn’t sure he completely heard, otherwise he might be happier about the whole state of affairs. Their fight was over, and Atenic managed to solve it herself! Maybe she could even slide into being an actual quadrant with Careen. Moirail? Or... auspistice. If it was possible to auspistice a matespritship.
But when Careen shooed away the rather confused-looking indigoblood and took Atenic’s hand, she realized she didn’t care. For this one moment, she was the Heiress’ world. It was all she needed.
((Opening starts with Careen, so again, if bad relationships upset you I advise just skipping down. Song referenced this time was Libertango. Love me that Libertango))
“Darling, I’m going to dance with a very important political troll. I do hope you don’t mind, because frankly I don’t think you can change mine.”
Dontoc nodded absently. It hadn’t taken particularly long for Careen to end up getting bored of him after the first couple dances and had pretty much left him near the wall for her to flit about the ballroom. He offered to go with her out of obligation, but she declined, citing improper dress for the kind of politicking she needed to do at this event. Not that being told he can’t go with her upset or disappointed him in any way, but it did lead the way to having nothing to do. Initially he tried looking for Mayola or Valeba, but the search ended rather quickly when the crowd in the main floor thickened and his anxiety took over. Dontoc ended up hanging on the wall next to a bowl of unfortunately mediocre punch kept cool by an ice sculpture of some sort of bird.
“Dontoc? Are you even listening to me?”
He jumped, inhaling sharply. A shaky hand ran through his hair, trying to calm himself. “My...my apologies. Did you say something? I am afraid I may have become lost in my own thoughts there.”
She sighed, crossing her arms. “I’m going to dance with another troll, and you can’t stop me from doing so.”
He blinked owlishly and furrowed his brow in thought. “Oh...yes. Yes. You just said that. Was...was there nothing else?”
“You’re not going to try and stop me?”
“Careen, you are your own troll. I am not going to become upset and possessive simply because you wish to dance with…” he trailed off as he looked around for whoever she was talking about, but found no one amidst the sea of trolls, “with someone political.”
She tapped her foot with tightly pursed lips, making soft clicks with enough fervor Dontoc thought it might go through the floor. He steadied his breath, bracing himself for the worst. They were not about to have this fight. They were not about to fight because he let her do what she wanted.
Another troll appeared out of the crowd: a towering indigoblood, taller than Dontoc by a good few inches, in a pair of pantaloons and puffy white shirt who’s pompadour made him instantly recognizable to him. He wrapped an arm around Careen’s shoulders with a noticeable smarmy grin. “I see we meet again, seadweller.”
Dontoc gave the troll a lazy once over before turning back to Careen. He hadn’t noticed the tight boots going overtop his pants, up past his knee and tight enough it hugged every crease of his body to the ankle, and to be frank he wished desperately he hadn’t. “Please, do not mind me,” he told her, amiable smile plastered on his face. “I can entertain myself for a few songs.” Not as if you have not already led me to do such a thing.
“But are you sure?” Careen asked. She patted the indigoblood’s hand. “You’re not upset or anything?”
He shook his head. “We have already had this conversation. That would be--” Dontoc stopped as Careen whipped her and her partner around wordlessly away from him to mesh in with the waltzing dance partners. “--idiotic,” he finished softly.
Well, it wasn’t a fight.
He filled his champagne flute up to the top with more punch. He held no desire to return to the VIP area where Atenic likely still sat in perfect silence to stare vacantly until some other troll thought her mannerisms were cute or endearing and not deeply, deeply disturbing. And while the area was certainly less populated, the closer quarters made it feel just as busy as the main floor without the benefit of being able to easily escape outside without passing by burly bouncers in suits far too tight for them, nor was it possible to really disappear into a crowd when there wasn’t technically one to begin with. Hanging on a wall here to watch the orchestra musicians switch out between sets made him look no different from the other rainbow of castes collecting near the wall for whatever reason. Staying near the wall in the VIP area, where every troll appeared to have brought a date or have the charisma to snag another troll going stag, actively made him look lonely.
Another song started up, this one opening up with the director leading others into a steady clap in time to the staccato hits of the piano. Many of the trolls closer to the orchestra dancing picked it up immediately. Some of the more clever ones even worked it into their tango. Dontoc watched a few trolls not far from him that also wallflowered to the wall give half-hearted claps. He didn’t himself, but he also didn’t wish to set down his glass.
“Too good for a few claps?”
Now there was a voice he wasn’t soon to forget. A voice like good chocolate: smooth, familiar and reminiscent distinctly of late mornings on the computer in comfort. He didn’t even need to look over to check who was talking. He could never forget the voice of his moirail.
“Perhaps one should look in the mirror, for I at least have justification,” he said cheekily. He lifted up his glass, taking the smallest sip before setting it down gently on the table.
“Well I do too.”
He turned to her, quirking an eyebrow. “And what, my dear, would that be?”
“This.” With a laugh, she took his arm and pulled him into a tight embrace. Dontoc let his head bury itself into her shoulder. The warmth from her body radiated from her, from the arms wrapped around his back and the hair tickling his face that made his fins twitch and flutter. “God Dontoc, never knew you were one for PDA,” she joked.
“I think the troll world at large will manage to accept a brief moment for two moirails who have not seen each other in...oh goodness how long has it been?” He pulled his head up to look at her, letting his arms fall down to her hold her hands. Valeba was radiant. Now that they were close up, he could see every intricate piece to her outfit. And was her eyeliner winged? Did Mayola convince her to wing eyeliner? “Goodness you look fantastic. And Ardeen is not even here to watch.”
“Yeah, but can you imagine Ardeen here?” She turned around briefly as the accordion swelled to take a look at all general populace. “He owns like...one suit. Maybe. I’ve never seen it. I think he’s fucking with me.”
“Does it still fit?”
“Did yours when we first met?” She smirked.
Dontoc smiled sheepishly, purple blush inflaming his cheeks. “Ah...well I had yet to phase them all out, yes. Ace...ace...Aisral is a very busy troll, you are aware, and well, she had to fix all of my suits due to the lack of care I had given them and... oh you’re messing with me, aren’t you?”
“Well yeah.” Her smirk fell. “Everything okay?”
“As okay as it can be when you are stuck with Careen. And her company. And the crowd. And....” He sighed, shaking his head. “I should be glad she abandoned me some time ago, but...well, you know. Afraid it is rather limiting.”
“Yeah, I do.” Her smile returned in coupling with gently squeezing his soft hand in her calloused one. You need to take your thinkpan off things, or do you wanna talk?”
His fins fluttered furiously to match the deepening violet. “Here? Valeba, a hug is one action, but we are moirails and this is not a Sandyhorn party. For the two of us to curl and talk so brazenly at this would be frowned upon. Normally, I would not care so much, but you’re Mayola’s kismesis now and--”
She chuckled. “Okay, I get it.” With a pat of his shoulder, she added, “Doing it at a formal ball with your moirail is eons different from doing it at a diner with a crush.”
Dontoc’s mouth fell open. “Valeba that was your idea!”
She wasn’t wrong by any stretch of the imagination. Valeba was one of the only few trolls who knew how his and Pallia’s relationship existed in a dubious red area, seeing as it was her advice that backfired.
She grinned. “And did it make things feel better, after the awkwardness faded away?” Dontoc wanted to answer to try and refute it, but his phone got to him first. Lying and saying he wasn’t texting anyone was one thing. Trying to convince his moirail he was texting anyone other than Pallia was another story entirely. “That’s her isn’t it?”
He slid his phone out just enough to see Pallia’s name flash over top the words “glassin’s utterly trasshed lol” along the top of the screen. He held back a grin as the mental image of what Glacin could possibly be doing to necessitate a text flooded his mind. Hopefully there was a picture attached to it. Pallia wouldn’t just hang him out to dry. “Of course.” He slid his phone back down to look back up at her. Checking it around company was impolite. “You know me too well, Valeba.”
“Well first off, I’m your moirail. Pretty sure that’s expected.”
“This is true, yes.”
“Second, I’d like to think you’re pretty easy to figure out.” She shrugged nonchalantly. She paused to push a loose strand of hair that fell from her bun behind her ear. “You’re a geek who does geek things with anxiety, so sometimes you don’t do geek things. Like now, you’re hanging on the wall because there’s a lot of people and these types of fancy shindigs really aren’t your thing.”
Dontoc nodded. His hands slid into his pockets, pushing the tweed jacket back behind them. “So you can predict, theoretically of course what I shall do next with a relatively low margin of error.”
“Probably.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I am afraid, your calculations are off.”
She raised her eyebrows doubtfully. “And where would that be, oh wise seadweller?”
The song ended in a flurry of sixteenth notes running about the scale. Anyone watching, on the dance floor or out of the corner of their eye, could catch the bowstrings of the violins moving about furiously all the way until the finale. Trolls, dancers and onlookers alike, stopped what they were doing to applaud the orchestra musicians. A couple doing the solos even stood up and bowed. Somewhere in that crowd was Careen and that ridiculous indigoblood, possibly laughing and judging him for something now that he was away. Careen undoubtedly also told him more, about his choice of moirail and “unwilling” attitude about dancing. He wasn't sure if Careen was trying to send some kind of message (what that would be, he couldn't begin to fathom) or if she was attracted to men in ill-fitting clothing. It certainly explained her initial draw to him, much as that thought it really was that shallow left a bad taste in his mouth.
But Dontoc shut all that out. Focusing on the crowd led to nothing good, especially now of all times where doing such led to the desperate want to leave. Not when he wanted to do something unexpected. He let out a slow breath, silencing his thoughts and forcing his shaky hands to steady long enough to take hers again. A sly smile played on his lips. “From the sounds of it, you do not anticipate for me to request an official dance. And yet, I would like to ask my lovely moirail if she would like to dance. Crowd be damned.”
He watched with amusement as Valeba’s expression morphed from surprise; looking about the room to hide the rising blush on her cheeks; then confusion, then playful. She mirrored his own smile with shining eyes. “Well…” she said lightly as she shifted to the balls of her feet to ready herself, “since you asked nicely, I just don’t think I can refuse.”
((I needed to feel better so I wrote fluff. Specifically flustered dorks who can’t fucking spit it out and still won’t. There’s probably way too much dialogue. It happens. Also, if you did read the tailoring drabble I posted not long ago, this happens only a night or two before that fic. As such, they’re 14ish sweeps and this is considered ‘modern day’ in the scheme of things.))
“Pallia, please don't make such a fuss, it's unkind to your features.”
“Unkind? Careen if you're going to do everything you can to make sure your guests don't talk to me, don't act like it's ssssssome idiotic attempt at my appearance!” Pallia yelled. “The only reason I'm here anyway is because Mayola practically begged me.”
The few trolls walking into the room stopped. They didn't seem to know what to do. Pallia couldn't say she blamed them. When you're invited to a fancy formal ball, you don't expect one of the guests to end up in a screaming match with the other. In particular, you don't expect it in some dark green restingblock hiding in the back of the hive, away from everyone else.
Careen raised a perfectly plucked brow. “Oh? Are you absolutely certain you aren't chasing after someone else?” she asked. “One of your hivemates, perhaps?”
“Who?” Pallia asked. “Who am I, someone wholly uninterested in quadrants, chasing?”
Careen was silent as she crossed her arms over her violet corset-style top, glaring daggers. “We both know who I'm talking about.”
Pallia rolled her eyes. She did, it was true. And it hadn’t been the first time Careen accused her of seducing (could an asexual troll even seduce someone?) him and dragging him down. “Then tell Mayola I'm sssssorry I sssstill can't tolerate your presssence to help her get through thisssss fucking party.”
She didn't let Careen answer, instead marching out of the room, only stopping briefly to apologize to both Mayola and a goldblood in dark sunglasses (hiding his psionic to keep from being a battery) who Pallia actually spent the party with, that she was leaving early due to outlying circumstances. Mayola didn't buy it for a second, and it took some promising of meeting up later before heiress let her go. But at least she left it at that. Pallia was glad; this goldblood was interested in theoretically assisting with research, and she would happily accept a computer engineer on her team. She wasn't sure what he'd think about all this, and didn't particularly want to know.
From there, she found herself sitting alone in a back corner of a late-night Sandyhorn diner, furiously texting Aisral about the whole event.
Fucking Careen. She deserved... something. Something worse than Pallia occasionally yelling at her after Careen manages to go out of her way to ruin her night. This time, from Careen going out of her way to interrupt her rather pleasant conversation with the goldblood. He seemed massively uncomfortable by the whole thing, and Careen nearly made him stay as witness to “Pallia’s natural violent nature”. At least she managed to get him out before the blow up.
And most obnoxiously of all, she never blew up. Careen would become snide and condescending, but she didn't get angry the way Pallia was used to. She could deal with yelling and violence. But the constant treatment that she was a wiggler, talking over her and accusing her without any further explanation? It infuriated her like nothing else. She wasn't sure how anyone put up with it, much less people like Mayola or Dontoc -- the former who had to for political reasons and the latter who just….liked her. Somehow.
She sighed, rubbing her forehead as Aisral sent a flurry of furious messages. She knew why Dontoc liked her -- sort of. And logically it made sense. Isolation, social or otherwise, did things to a troll that society never wanted to acknowledge. Maybe if she were in the same position, repeatedly told she was a useless excuse of her caste for a good chunk of her life, she would have reacted similarly. But then again, wasn't she? Simultaneously, she always had Aisral and Dontoc….didn't. Not for a while, anyway. So she had no true frame of reference.
It certainly didn't help that Careen seemed absolutely convinced there was something going on between them for reasons that frankly made no sense. The two were friends, yes. And they lived together. And for Pallia to say Dontoc wasn't that geeky cute she preferred, or how charming he became once he relaxed, was a lie. That being said, the two barely even saw each other anymore, down to her not even seeing him at the whole ball. Or that their relationship lasted long enough to surpass the 3-4 sweep threshold in which losing interest was most likely. If anything, Careen should be less concerned now than she was sweeps ago, and yet she became more erratic and defensive with each passing sweep.
But, if she had to really reason it out, if she had to fill the red quadrant and didn’t use the moirallegiance to make it past pailing seasons, and if Dontoc were available, and if he were somehow okay with the whole asexual thing, he wouldn’t be a bad partner. He wouldn’t even just be a good partner. She’d have a matesprit who she could curl up and watch bad movies with, someone who went along with even the most seemingly inane of decisions (including the multiple times. She’d have a best friend for a matesprit. What could be better?
It was a shame their friendship put her back on Careen’s radar.
“Excuse me dear, is this seat taken?” a posh, distinctly familiar voice asked. Pallia jerked her head up, finding the tired smile of Dontoc standing at the end of the table. His hair looked just as messy as usual. Pallia didn't have the energy to say anything, she just waved him down. He slid down toward the end of the booth, the whites of his suit standing in stark contrast to the dark colors of the diner.
“Did Aisral text you?” she eventually asked.
“Actually this time you can blame Mayola. She made it her personal goal to find me and tell me you left,” he said. “I daresay no one has even realized I left.”
Pallia snorted. “Yeah, I’m sure at your anniversssary party they won’t noticssse you’re gone.”
“Careen certainly seemed extremely worked up and concerned with something I frankly held no interest in regarding Mayola. I highly doubt she will attempt to contact me tonight. But just in case-” He slid his hand into his pocket, revealing a violet phone covered in a light gray case. He pressed a few buttons and set it on the table, letting it vibrate harshly as the small legs curled into the blackened screen. “-I shall take the measures to ensure we are uninterrupted.”
Pallia smiled weakly. “Ssssshe’s angry at Mayola?”
Dontoc gave her a Cheshire cat grin. “Absolutely livid. I think she finally found out Mayola is taking this Heiress thing seriously.”
“Oh.” She exhaled, letting her shoulders droop for the first time since arriving. That took a weight off her. “Conssssidering she’s insssssissstent I’ve got ssssome kind of flusssssh crusssssh on you.” She groaned again and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Ssssorry for the hissss. I know it’sss bad right now. Ssstill upssset.”
Dontoc blinked harshly several times, mouth opening and closing like a fish with his fins fluttering wildly in some kind of bizarre attempt at processing the information. Then, finally, he managed to squeak out, “Huh.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who’ssss confussssed,” she said. “Though I haven’t told Aissssral that yet. Will do ssssoon. Don’t worry I’m not gonna pussssh any of that on you.”
“Pallia, you so artfully avoid any conversation about Careen, I would truly be more worried if you did.” He frowned, gaze flickering down for a second before locking back onto her.
“You ssssay that asssss you bolt from the party to find me,” she pointed out.
He gave her a playful smirk. “Attempting to quiet Mayola does not count.”
“We both know that’s impossssssible.”
“Yes. It is. But if I do not attempt, then Aisral will certainly be upset, and she is still designing our costumes for Night of Frights. It would be dreadful of her to burn it two months before the date.” He quirked an eyebrow. “By the way, do you still wish to attend? I understand wishing to back out.”
Pallia crossed her arms. “Oh no. We’ve had thessse plans ssssince we ssstarted lissstening. I’m not backing out because of one bad night.”
“Should I be worried about your inclination to play an evil scientist working with the horrorterrors?” he asked dryly.
“At this rate, I’d file it under a possssibility,” she muttered.
Another smirk, one that she mirrored right back, however pitifully. Joking always put her in a better mood. “I feel like this should be nipped in the bud before it becomes a problem.”
“And how are you going to do that? Cassssst Allies?”
“Perhaps.” She watched as he craned his neck around to observe the empty room around them. As he stood up, he gave her a slight bow and added, “But I think I have a better idea.”
She cocked her head in confusion, mouth open to ask, but he was gone before any words could form. She watched as he approached the counter toward the same peppy brownblood that seated her not long ago. He glanced over at the table and waved shyly Pallia’s gaze dropped to the phone underneath the table, heat pooling to her face and down her neck.
“Sssstop letting Careen messsss with your nucleon,” she muttered. It’s just Dontoc. A troll who she had known for a solid four sweeps now. A troll who ducked out of more important events to spend time with her (like now), willingly went along all the times she wanted to drag him out of the hive, curled up in her lap like a purrbeast (and she had done the same), and happily assisted in experiments that went on far longer than they should have. The same troll who went out of her way to find her in a diner after she stormed out all because Mayola tipped him off. But that ignored their large caste difference...among other things.
Careen was looking for reasons to get hate her. That’s all.
She didn’t look back up until she heard his voice again. “Consider it a gift.”
“Consider wh--oh.” On the table next to her was a tall chocolate milkshake, whip cream and all. “Dontoc you really didn’t have to.”
“You looked miserable when I arrived. Truly the least I could do.” With an chuckle, he added, “However, of course I desired one myself.”
She sighed, leaning back in her chair. He wasn’t wrong: even with the joking, she felt miserable. Mentally she might have calmed, but she could still feel the blood rush through her body, putting everything on edge. Her throat still felt choked up, and she was afraid any minute she might end up crying, even his cheery tone. “You didn’t get one.”
He grinned and stuck a second straw into the milkshake. “Yes, I did.”
And there it was again. That creeping heat on her neck that froze her brain faster than the milkshake ever could. Granted, he must have been doing something right. The anger she felt over the whole situation froze with the rest of her thoughts, replacing it with...something else she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She propped herself up in in her chair to take a long sip from the milkshake, hoping to steady her racing thoughts. The milkshake was helping, if only as a proper distraction to whatever growing situation was at hand.
“Well you’ll have to hurry up or else it’ll be gone,” she eventually said. It was all that could come to her head. The rest was replaced with some awful combination of dissipating irritation and growing nervousness.
“I will be fair, I was not sure you would be okay with me drinking at the same time as you,” he admitted. “You seem ah…”
“Anxious?” She pushed the milkshake closer to him, forcing her to rest her lean over more. Her arms laid flat on the table as her hands wrapped around the bottom of the frosted glass. “It’s better than angry.”
“Not angry is good. Anxious is not.” He took the second straw and took a short sip. “We do not need two of me running around, I feel.”
“You’re doing fine right now for some reason,” she said.
“Oh trust me Pallia, I am still a complete mess of nerves at all points in this discussion.” He smiled sheepishly and placed his cool hands over Pallia’s on the glass, telltale tremors of nervousness not stopping until his hand completely overlapped. She shuddered the minute they touched, but whether it was because of the temperature difference or something else she wasn’t sure. “I have simply gotten better at hiding it vocally.”
Her gaze dropped back down to the table, glasses sliding down her face. She wanted to push them back up her nose, but simultaneously didn’t want to move. This was pleasant. Nerve-wracking, but...pleasant. If that were possible. “I dunno, you’re not generally so bold as to try to hold my hand in public unless we’re playing it up to get highbloods to back off.” She took another long drink. “...Are we?”
His fins fluttered. “Ah...no. But you’re are lower in caste, and as such your hands are pleasantly warm.”
“So you were looking for an excuse.”
Dontoc laughed before taking another sip. Between the two of them (or well, Pallia with a smidgen of assistance), the milkshake had almost disappeared in the short amount of time they sat down together. “It is chilly outside.”
“Says the troll who is drinking a chocolate frozen moobeast drink with me in a cold diner and admitted he wanted one himself,” she said lightly. “If you want physical contact you can just tell me.”
He smiled shyly. “Do you?” He paused, and expression, fins and all, dropped. “I can stop if I am making you uncomfortable. I...well, I know you have your preferences about being touched.”
Pallia bit her lip. She was far from uncomfortable. Really, the fact that this wasn’t bothering her in the slightest worried her more at this point. It was one thing to do this in the privacy of their own hive, where only Aisral could make quips towards them. It was another to have their faces sit inches away from each other, sharing a milkshake like matesprits.
God this is weird.
She must’ve been silent for longer than she thought. In an instant, he pulled everything away completely. He didn’t break his gaze - not completely anyway, as Dontoc seemed more focused on some spot above her than her - but his fins certainly flapped hard enough she could feel the wind. “I ah...sorry. I am afraid I must have gotten carried away in my attempt at bringing your attention away from--”
She reached over to take his hand on instinct before it retracted under the table. “No you’re fine! Honesssst!”
“Are you sure? I do not want to continue if you--”
She rolled her eyes. “Dontoc, you know me. I’m more than happy to tell you I want you to sssstop.” She gave him a warm smile. “But I get why you’d be freaked out. We haven’t exactly...uh…”
He nodded and ran his free hand through his hair. “No, I understand. Though ah...if you would prefer dear, we could possibly call it and go home.”
Pallia cocked her head. “You’re not going back to the party?”
“Yes, because I shall have fun with strangers more than with a dear friend.” He raised his eyebrows at her. “Will you be okay? About everything with well-” he gestured vaguely in the air “-Careen?”
“Hopefully. If she’s more angry at Mayola right now, then I might not have to deal with her.”
Dontoc hummed and shoved his hand in his pocket. Had it always sounded so pleasant when he did that? She knew she enjoyed it, but more than that she enjoyed what it came with: long conversations with lots of back and forth. But this is the first time anything made her feel effervescent for the first time in hours. Or maybe he always did it to her, and she only just now noticed. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Her thoughts broke when he took her free hand again, sliding a cool piece of silk. She looked down to see the barest hint of what looked like a violet handkerchief. His handkerchief. “Take this,” he said. He sounded closer. He was closer. Back to the same closeness as with the milkshake. Close enough the seadweller chill combined with those fins made her shiver. “It should serve as a reminder.”
Pallia looked at him quizzically. “For…”
He sighed. “A reminder to Careen of our relationship. But also…” he trailed off for a second to trace a circle into Pallia’s hand. His face pointed toward the floor as he spoke, but she could still see those damned fins vibrate, “in the off chance something happens and we must part, I wanted you to have something tangible to remember me by, since you have given me much in that regard, and I...ah, not so much.”
She flushed, pulse racing. It’s just Dontoc, she told herself. Your friend with a pretty voice and face and is doing a really good job making me feel bashful for no good reason, but a friend. After all, why would you only feel flushed after 4 sweeps? Who does that?
“I’m not sure 12th Perigee gifts count for that.”
“I feel they do.” He looked back up at her, sheepish smile sending butterflies to her stomach for reasons that it absolutely shouldn’t have. “And well, and even then this is hardly much of anything. However,
Okay. Maybe she did have a flush crush.
That’s not good.
She looked at the table. A free finger traced the handkerchief. The increased tangling of their fingers was a secondary, but not unwelcome, effect. She sighed softly, but for due to the former or latter reason she wasn’t sure. “No, this is perfect.” She grinned, hoping it hid the growing awkwardness she felt. “Thanks.”
He laughed quietly. “I’m glad. You deserve something you love.”
They stood there in the quiet evening of the diner for a moment before Pallia finally separated to step away from the table. “If we don’t leave soon, it’ll be daylight.”
“Hm. You’re right.” He grabbed his phone and followed suit, standing next to her with a worried frown. “Erm, Pallia...do you mind if I fix something?”
She blinked owlishly at him. “Uh...sure.”
He snickered and pushed up her glasses. “It was starting to bother me.”
Pallia blinked harshly, letting out a small squeak when his hand came up. With everything else, she completely forgot they fell. “Oh, yeah. Guess they did. Thanks.”
His fins twitched in a perfect compliment to his tinted cheeks. “I-I mean, you look fine either way. I just ah, thought you might like to see better.”
“I would, yeah.” She giggled and leaned into him. He wrapped an arm around her upper back, just past her shoulders. “Makes getting home easier.”
His hand gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “I would hope,” he said pleasantly. “But come on, let’s go home.”
She leaned her head on his arm. Careen might have been right (for once). She did actually have a crush on Dontoc, and there was nothing either party could do much about. But that’s okay. She’d just take a break from him. Let the feelings simmer down. Maybe even dissipate.
Or maybe it wouldn’t. But she’d solve that later on.
((A piece I’ve had pretty back burner for a while. Tbh I’m absurdly proud of “Preypal” for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Not to mention it’s nice to write from Pallia’s POV, which boy have I not done in a while. Also, I’m just going to make the note right here, since the Empress isn’t Condy, that’s why Tab soda pop isn’t all the rage. La Croix fits Carica’s aesthetic more than Tab while keeping the lack of caloric intake and tastes about as awful imo))
The first time it happened, Pallia assumed it was an accident. She sat, staring at the absolutely ridiculous amount of money sitting her Preypal account under anonymous, with absolutely no comment to even begin to let her guess who in God’s name thought a --she didn’t even really want to count and find out -- figure number was something she, a tealblood needed. Which granted, she never exactly did get to perform any sort of Seventh Sweep Ordeal. Not to say money was impossible to come by, but her primary income wasn't from her research.
Not to mention was all the money she did have to funnel in. Ignoring things she did admittenly purchase as gifts or to make her own life more pleasant, she paid everyone who worked under her - all except Aisral, who’s payment equaled out to free room, board and supplies. There were general expenses to keep the place up and running, all the medical and scientific equipment, money for clothing or travel, and all the required vanity items the Empress sold that midbloods and lower were required to purchase (and boy was La Croix disgusting). And those that knew about all those expenses were few and far between. If they didn’t flat just live with her, they had to be frequent enough guests that they may as well live here, if not for whatever outlying circumstances.
Vodnik periodically sent her money, sure, but Vodnik’s style of “charitable donation” was not only a lesser monetary value, but it was big bills shoved between the latest medical tools shuttled off in oversized, anonymous boxes. Vodnik was a sea pirate functioning wholly through fenced goods, so large online transfers were never something to expect with him. She wasn't even sure he had a Preypal anyway, assuming he knew it existed.
It could be Mayola. It was unlikely, as Pallia doubted Mayola held the forethought to hide any sort of quirk, but Mayola was a seadweller. The elite of society. Assuming she wasn't dumping it on one of the countless others she did, she could have the money.
Her door cracked open, breaking her concentration. She whipped around in her chair, catching the her violetblooded hivemate, Dontoc, dressed in his usual neatly pressed suit.
“Pallia?” he said, softly enough to her she could barely hear. “I just wanted to let you know I will be out tonight with Careen.”
She cocked her head. She hadn't considered Dontoc. Frankly, it seemed so much like the obvious choice that her initial instinct said no. That it had to be someone else hoping she’d assume Dontoc. But he certainly knew about her situation, and there's no way he wouldn't have the money to compensate her. It was more a matter of if. And she could at least see Dontoc, if he were trying to hide it was him, hoping she would assume that it couldn’t be him because he was the obvious choice, and so she’d guess someone else. “Um... okay,” she said. “Sounds good. Just one question, if you can real fast.”
She casually waved him over, and he seemed silently stride over until he stood behind her chair, resting his arms on the top. “What do you need?” he asked.
She pointed at the money transfer as she glanced over at him. “I just found this. You have any ideas?”
Dontoc’s fins fluttered as he shook his head with a little too much vigor to be wholly innocent. “Oh no! Only troll I could think is Mayola. Certainly she’s a likely suspect?”
She pursed her lips in thought. “I dunno. Maybe.” Pallia paused and leaned back in her chair. Her head briefly touched what must've been Dontoc's arm before it quickly retracted back to his side. “I'll ask her next time she comes over I guess.”
“I think that’ll work wonderfully in your favor,” he said hurriedly. “Though I do have to wonder if it could be anyone else. Doesn’t Vodnik….? Or Glacin! Surely one of them.”
“Glacin refuses to use it because it leaves a paper trail. I’m pretty sure he’d just send me solid gold if he could. And Vodnik...well... I don’t actually think Vodnik knows this exists,” Pallia said. She looked up to find him straight faced with his fins drooping slightly. “Are you okay? Need water?”
“No no...I’m - I am - fine. Aside from some common anxieties about how the night is going to go.” He started to run his hand through his hair but stopped midway, frowning. “Why do you ask?”
“Your fins are doing the drooping thing,” she said.
“Oh!” He grinned sheepishly, and she watched his fins hurriedly fan his darkening face. “Well...ah….perhaps I do need to have a quick glass of water before I leave. It couldn’t hurt. Will you ah...will you be busy later on? We could continue this discussion afterwards maybe.”
“Actually I’m going to be running some tests once Mayola gets here on her muscle strength and lung support and comparing it to perigees prior. And hopefully, if all goes well, I want to test hormonal levels upon exposure to aspects of other fuschiabloods and see what, on a chemical level, it affects. If at all.” She sighed. “If it goes well I’ll be free, but who the hell knows with Mayola.”
He nodded. “Ah...right. I’ll ah...see you then. If you’re free. If that’s okay.”
“Yeah of course it’s--”
And he was out in a flash. Pallia shook her head and sighed, pushing his odd behavior out of her head for now. She could reapproach it after dealing with Mayola...however long it would end up taking for Mayola to arrive at her hive, let alone be ready to perform routine tests instead of flirting with Aisral.
She dinked around her husktop for a few minutes, eventually pulling out her phone to send a quick text to Mayola. Mayola was quick to answer (it made Pallia debate if she had even left yet, but such was a conversation for much later), reminding Pallia the one time she tried using Preypal to pay Aisral it somehow ended up with Preypal trying to have her pay less money due to her caste, followed by a sum of money going Careen’s direction and a rather furious Mayola yelling at a surly Preypal representative on the phone threatening to get drones involved if need be, yet still the whole event got dragged out for a solid twenty minutes.
She also suggested Dontoc, since obviously who else could it be? Aside from, in her words “the ungodly pink tumor on our lives playing some trick and is gonna pull the money out here soon”, of course.
When she arrived at the hive for testing - phone in hand - she was very eager to continue the train of thought. Especially when Pallia let slip how quickly he became uncomfortable during the whole conversation. Speculation to motive ranged around from, in Mayola’s mind at least, seadweller guilt (the most likely reason, which Pallia could agree with), to some bizarre prank set up by Careen (the least likely reason, since he took a neutral route in regards to the two’s antagonism). Pallia halfheartedly attempted to move her off the topic, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the wild speculation (lowering Pallia’s guard around him to commit violent murder? Secret pale crush? Secret flush crush? Secret pitch crush? Doppleganger?), even if it slowed down the testing. The two ended up running far later than expected, and by the time everything was done, all she wanted to do was curl up under the blankets of her mattress pad, thoughts of actually bringing the topic up to to Dontoc again long forgotten.
It managed to completely leave her thoughts until the next perigee, when sure enough, only a day or two later Pallia lamented about having to purchase the Empress’ La Croix on top of overly-expensive, gaudy jewelry sold by Careen, her Preypal sent her a notification of an anonymous donation that more than covered for the whole amount and then some.
“Well,” she muttered softly, “really only one troll it could be at this point.”
She swiveled out of her chair and walked on down to Dontoc’s room, giving three sharp raps on his door and waiting a good minute before opening the door. Nothing new: it was a system they mutually agreed upon when he was still adjusting to life without sopor-induced sleep and forgetting to eat. She ended up coming in so much that knocking quickly became less a way of asking if you were invited and more a quick alert you were coming in. It worked both directions too. If the two stayed up too late the day prior, he’s used the setup to bring her coffee or announce a temporary departure.
In fact, he barely even noticed her opening the door to the glorified library of a room. Dontoc sat at his desk, focused wholly on whatever he drew in his notebook. He didn’t even seem to notice she walked in. She knocked on the open door again, louder this time. Still nothing.
“Hey Dontoc?” she asked.
Dontoc hurriedly shut the notebook and shoved it aside, head jerking away to meet hers. Pallia covered her mouth to hide her laugh, but a few loose chuckles escaped anyway. “Pallia! You….you didn't--”
“I knocked twice. You didn't hear.” She shrugged. “Can I come in?”
He nodded vigorously, beckoning her inside. She stepped through the doorframe, gently shutting the door behind her. “Of course! Please, go ahead and sit down.” he said. “Do you need something? Or rather, if you do not mind, I could use this opportunity to take care of my own business.”
"No. Well, no. That's wrong. I sort of do.” She sat on the edge of his mattress pad, kicking her feet underneath her. “Do you remember that anonymous person who sent me money?”
She watched as his somewhat normal tired expression widen in panic, and he ran his hand through his hair in a blatant attempt to calm himself down. “Ah...vaguely. Preypal, if I remember correctly.”
“Yeah.” She took a slow breath as she pieced together the best way to put this. Dontoc denied it last time, so he probably would again. “Well, it happened again. After I talked about losing a lot of money.”
He nodded slowly. “Interesting,” he said.
“And…” she paused. “I really think it's you.”
Any composure he had dropped in that instant. He blinked harshly, the quirked eyebrow and head shake contrasting his twitching, embarrassed fins. If anything, it made the feigned disbelief look like guilt. She had to give him credit, he was certainly more prepared for the accusation the second time around.
“No idea what you...you are talking about,” he said, voice straining to find vocalizations better than a squeak.
“You know? The Preypal thing? And the sender being you?”
His gaze dropped down to his fiddling fingers. “Oh.” He swallowed heavily. “And ah...you think it’s me.”
“Well, it all adds up.” She shifted herself so she leaned forward on the sleeping pad, letting her feet touch the floor. “Most of it. Mayola -- and you don’t know this one -- she doesn’t really use online payment systems after the last mistake. Vodnik and Glacin are out. I can’t see why the hell Careen would give me money, I’ll be fair. And Volcor might be cobalt, but he’s not sitting high enough for it to be worth the ridiculous amount it is. Not to mention getting an exact payment for a bunch of stuff I didn’t want to buy in the first place plus no more exactly than half of the amount of last time? That’s...that’s almost too perfect. I’m just trying to parse out why you’d go anonymous.”
“Assuming it’s me,” he said flatly.
Pallia paused to stare blankly before slowly saying, “Assuming it’s you, yes.” She shook her head. “But I honestly couldn’t think who else it would be. I wrapped my head around it so many times when Mayola was here we were starting to spin in theoretical circles.”
It wasn’t wholly the truth -- Mayola was dead set that it couldn’t be anyone else but Dontoc -- but Pallia truly couldn’t think of who else it could be. She only knew four trolls who had that kind of money. All seadwellers: two who hated her, one who hated Preypal, and Dontoc. It made the process of elimination simple.
She sighed. “You don’t have to tell me it’s you. If it is, you made it anonymous for a reason. Unless you know who it is and it’s not you. Just at least so if it is Careen or Po…anyone where the money might get immediately pulled away the minute I try to spend it I know to keep it untouched.”
He finally looked back up at her, embarrassment replaced with concern. “You...you haven’t spent it?”
“It’s been sitting in my account for at least a solid perigee so...no. I haven’t. Didn’t want something to happen to it because it’s too much for a tealblood, or the person who sent it decided they wanted it back.” She chuckled awkwardly. “But if you can assure me that whoever sent it won’t do that…”
“I get the distinct feeling the troll who sent that was unaware of such an, ah, possibility,” he said. “I think I shall inform them of such.”
She grinned. That at least, was a load off her back. “That’s a relief. Also tell them I said thanks. The whole thing’s putting so much pressure off me that I can use to focus literally anywhere else.”
He smiled back, probably in an attempt to be warm, but with his still-fluttering fins and violent-tinted face he looked sheepish. “Of course I can. Goodness knows it’ll make them feel useful.”
“Well, they don’t have to feel useful per se, but if it makes them feel better I won’t stop them.” Pallia chuckled and hopped off the sleeping bad. “Anyway, I think I’ve held you up long enough. I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair.”
“Pallia, you are hardly holding me up. Besides, I did have my own business too.” He scooted out of his chair and stood up, reaching out for a small vase on the top of his desk sitting underneath a lamp. Flowers bloomed from the top, a messy assortment of teals and whites with a couple purples poking through. “I ah...I do believe this is self-explanatory? This is for you. A small token of gratitude for everything you have done. I did my research and these should all be medinical, but of course they are also just pleasant to observe.”
Pallia felt her face flush. It only got worse as he stood up and actually walked over to her, holding it out. She took the arrangement from him with shaky hands, exhaling an oh so softly she didn’t even hear herself say it. “You didn’t need to do this, you know,” she said.
He shrugged. “Yes, but it has been a sweep or so since I arrived, and you love commemoration so I thought you might like it,” he said. “So yes anyway...erm, here you go.”
“Right. I’m…” she tried to swallow, but her mouth suddenly felt dry. It was an unpleasant duo to her racing heartbeat. “I’m gonna go put thissss in my room.”
She scurried out before Dontoc could get a word in edgewise, not stopping until she could get to her room to put the flowers on an empty shelf above her own sleeping pad.
“If that was intentional,” she muttered to herself as she calmed, “that was absurdly well played.”
The next perigee, right on what she figured was going to be a new schedule, it happened again. The same amount as the first perigee, still under the anonymous tag, everything. She shook her head and sighed as minimized the tab on her husktop to walk down to the kitchen, just to get a cup of coffee.
Well, get a cup of coffee and affirm one small thing.
She stopped at Dontoc’s door, not even bothering to knock this time as she peeked her head in. He was on his own husktop this time, quickly closing out of a tab before looking up at her. “Yes, dear? Need something?”
“Just wanted to ask if you knew who anonymous was,” she said cheekily.
There was a brief moment of panic that crossed his face before he rolled his eyes and smirked. “Have not the faintest idea,” he said dryly.
She returned the smirk wholeheartedly as she closed the door, barely able to withhold her laughter until it clicked shut. He’d never have to flat out tell her. She knew. He knew that she knew. And three perigees in, she didn’t think she wanted it any other way.
