Fingers (For both of the boys)
Touch my muse! || No Longer Accepting
Bonely
Feeling tiny fingers touching his, Bonely started, looking down to see what goblin or half-starved gumm-gumm whelp was tugging at him. A broad grin of relief stretched across his face when he saw the little ginger haired caster whelp. He hadn’t seen her since the last threat of the Red Death had blown over and he was pretty glad to see her alive and in one peace.
“Well, if it ain’t the ginger-haired jumper! How yeh doin’ kid? Keepin’ out a’ Gunmar’s way, I hope.” He tussled her hair affectionately before sitting down to talk. “Heh, chief ain’t exactly been the most friendly teh outsiders since the Red Death blew in. So what brings yeh here, kid? Must be somethin’ important teh bring yeh back here teh the darklands.”
Salem
Salem started at the sudden touch and looked down to see if it was another rogue gnome or a whelpling looking for attention. His tension fell away when he saw the little whelp friend Ren and Draal seem to have attracted to their midst.
“Oh, heya kiddo,” he greeted, setting down a pot of sunstain cream. “Bit late fer potion shoppin’ ain’t it, Hope?“
The cleric rested his elbows on his counter, a tired smile sliding onto his turquoise face. He knew she was mage-kind, and that she was a jumper to boot. But that didn’t stop him from giving her little discounts for being a youngster. After all, who could expect a youngster like her to bring in as much as the full grown trolls of TrollMarket?