A description of your OC by someone who hates them
“Just exactly WHAT is so stupefyingly incredible about that ambulatory troll dowsing rod?”
“He’s much prettier than you for one thing.”
Revedrin swirled around, his lavender crushed silk robes gathering in around his ankles, then billowing out with the sudden motion. The mage’s lime green eyes blazed with disdain as they regarded the rogue sprawled out on his parlour settee. Many things Kelenthas may have been, but observant of etiquette perhaps not as much. Still, their long-lasting friendship, if it could be called that, afforded the vagabond some leeway when it came to his insufferable humour. Revedrin placed a hand on his hip and sneered.
“Please, you jest! After associating with trolls for so long I’d imagine he’s sprouted warts everywhere and all manner of unsavoury growths, mayhap he’s even growing tusks of his own,” the blonde replied cattily.
Kelenthas could tell the barb had sunk in. Despite his claims otherwise, Revedrin was livid about being snubbed for the position of Chief Artifact Consultant, which went to his main adversary and rival; Flavian Weblight. Flavian wasn’t even a nobleman’s son! To think that he would scoop up all the fame and accomplishments that came from being in the field of archaeology right out from under everyone’s nose, including his own! Revedrin hissed and turned around to face his desk once more, retrieving the morning’s delivered mail with a quick snap of the wrist. Carefully manicured nails gleamed in the illuminating glow thrown from the magelights floating flameless in their sconces.
“Flavian, the troll-fucker!” Revedrin continued, leafing through his letters with a gradual intensity that saw some of the delicate parchment tear, “The redheaded embarrassment to blood elven dignity wherever he chooses to unscrupulously lift his robes! Flavian the twice-damned sunwell-forsaken BITCH!”
Kelenthas had enough sense not to chortle openly, but he wore a wide grin hidden behind the book he had casually picked up off the marble-inlaid coffee table, some dusty tome about harnessing soul fragment magics. Few topics whipped Revedrin into such a lather, but once he was there, it was quite an entertaining sight. Ever since they were stupid kids the blond had been scurrying along, trying to grasp at Flavian’s heels and keep up with him, but some elves were just born into brilliance, and others were simply not destined to shine as radiantly.
Revedrin threw his letters back on the desk in disgust and thrust his palms at it for support, leaning over the furniture to gaze at its lines and curves, as if its warm mahogany hew could soothe away the sudden raging ire the smirking stiff-corseted peacock conjured up in his head. So effortlessly Flavian took to everything, like a fucking duck to water, and even in absentia he earned accolade after accolade, each of them waiting prettily for his return. The magic council were simply tripping over their own cocks waiting for him to turn his stupid head their way.
“He can piss off, completely OFF this fucking world!” Revedrin snarled, gathering up his papers again and reading through them more carefully.
Kelenthas genuinely jumped when Revedrin gave a sudden shriek, picked up his inkwell and hurled it across the room, where it shattered into thousands of crystalline pieces doused in purple ‘blood’. Kelethan blinked at the splattered ink and remnants of the jar that had contained it, then looked up just as Revedrin exited the parlour in a growling lavender miasma of malcontent.
The rogue vacated his spot on the settee, placed the book on the coffee table once again, then approached the desk to pore over the half-torn letter Revedrin had been reading.
‘Regrettably, the subject you have requested to submit your thesis on has already been researched, the reports on which have been collated into an anthology by Chief Artifact Consultant Flavian Weblight. The anthology in question is available at the Sunfury Spire Collegium Library, however its popularity makes it a scarce tome. We suggest putting in a request form, should you have any interest in studying its contents.’
A deep-throated chuckle finally emerged from the rogue when the subject of Revedrin’s unbridled fury became clear. Oh, Flavian was indeed a heartless twice-damned sunwell-forsaken bitch for stealing the limelight quite neatly and succinctly away from Revedrin, the rogue mused to himself with a fresh bout of chuckles. But the mage’s loss was very much Kelenthas’s gain, at least now someone would be amenable to some satisfyingly violent sexual escapades.
