#zinith

[whimsyprinx]

i updated my app solely to be able to send all my mutuals yanan but i didn't get the update 😔😔😔

😔😔😔 you will get it soon, it’s like just taking a long time to work for people, I can send people yanan for you if you’d like

[fantrollassemblage]

==> Zinith: Go on a blind date

> You nervously fiddle with your braids, fins moving up and down and outwards to distract you. Hopefully, your date will show up soon. It’s not like she’s late, mind; You just showed up outside the aquarium half an hour too early because you didn’t want to make a bad impression by being late.

> Apparently, you’re supposed to recognise each other by the little pin, shaped like a black rose, which you’ve attached to the colored edge of your swimsuit for maximum contrast. Hopefully, it’ll be clear on her, too.

> Just... Have to wait for her to show up. 

[fantrollassemblage]

Day 9: Mysterious

Continuing the Inktober for writers with another drabble for Zinith.

This one pertains to finding the book Descartes, a book representing Light. It’s part of a concept @warrentrolls introduced me to.

“Think with clarity, for knowledge cannot thrive in the dark.” 

Zinith read out the riddle for what must have been the 20th time, her face scrunched up in deep thought. Stone doors, massive and heavy, locked her path into the inner sanctum of the cavernous ruins she was exploring. The doors were old, carved with markings of a stylized sun, and painted with a faint yellow barely left visible by the ceaseless passage of time. There was clearly some ritual purpose to the symbols, but for what, she could not say.

The seadweller, not for the first time that night, stomped her foot in frustration, smacking the stone with her hand. She was missing something! There must be a way to open the stupid door and get the stupid stuff inside!! What did the riddle mean, ‘in the dark’? Was it simply some sort of warning? That ignorance will be the downfall of a society? Some kind of religious significance, tied to the sun symbol or- 

Oh. Zinith smacked her forehead. Of course. She solved the simple grid-puzzle her capthalogue demanded, retrieving a large lamp with a satisfying click. “There you are!” she muttered to herself, fins shooting up like the ears of an excited dog. The darkness had hid faint lines, crawling over the tile floor in a very specific pattern. She stepped all the way back to the entryway, carefully stepping after the pattern and, sure enough, another satisfying click came. Then, a rumbling, mechanisms old and dusty coming back to life to slowly open the stone gates. Zinith practically skipped inside, letting out a victorious holler.

The inner sanctum was oddly light. Zinith could not see any sources of light, yet there was something to the room, as if light filtered through the very stone itself. Furthermore, there was this odd scent... Was that... Citrus? Zinith sniffed. Maybe perfumes in here had managed to survive.

It soon became apparent that there were no such things. No pots or glass were to be found in this room. No jewels, no rotten silk or beautiful pearls. The only thing inside this sanctum was a pedestal, with a book on it. The entire room seemed to gravitate towards the book, as if it was begging to be seen. Its binding of pure gold caught every light, no darkness seemed able to even touch the it. It begged to be seen.

Zinith placed a hand on the book. Her mind raced, ideas and theories and raw curiousity battling for dominance. Once the third had won, Zinith opened the book (were these pages bound by plant fiber? Was that the source of the citrus smell?), only to be greeted by an incomprehensible mess. The pages were bursting with the most detailed information, but none remained focused. They answered questions half-formed, handled theories she had not yet even finalized. 

“What... Is this?” 

She turned to the next page, and a single word shone in golden ink: Descartes.

[fantrollassemblage]

Day 2: Noise

Continuing the Inktober for writers with a drabble for Zinith.

Zinith had always had a quite poor relationship with music. 

Not that she did not like music, but rather, it was often too overwhelming. Born in the oceanic coral reefs, sound always had a distance to it. It was not nearly as important as the vibrations and scents permeating the water. 

When she would stick her head up above, noise was an assault on the senses. No worse than other sounds, but this particular cacophany was supposed to be enjoyable? She remembers hearing the screech of an accordion for the first time, thinking someone was in pain, but the sailors she spoke to were gleefully cheering for the player. 

Was there something wrong with her? When she first came to the surface, stayed for real, she tried to avoid as much music as she could. Those clubs that played it always had it so loud, it made her head pound like a drum. Other seadwellers seemed to enjoy that, though, so why didn’t she? The fear of not only missing out on something others enjoyed, but also a more deep-set fear that she wouldn’t be able to fit in, it crawled under her skin.

That is, until she found a sort of gateway. The soft tunes of music boxes were a good start. They were more quiet, melodic. She also found herself drawn to live performances in small clubs, where singular trolls could play their instrument of choice to only a few dozens of people. Even now, she loves listening to those performances.

That gateway placed her where she sits now: In her away-from-home hivestem apartment, plugging in her new speakers. There’s only one way to improve her horizons, right? She opens grubtube and starts the first song.

[fantrollassemblage]

Cell phone for two pairs of our trolls that have interacted.

Send 📱 for five texts my muse didn't send yours, and one that they did

Vivant/Serres

[Sent late at night] I miss the intimacy

ok i know we closed the argument before but: benefit to katanas

fite me bruh

i think i need your help on a thing- wait youre out right whoops

dance on DEEZ NUTS

hey Serres, wanna check out the museum of bladed weaponry? i think you’d like it there!

Zinith/Orlean (mix of old and newer texts)

Hey babe I met this really nice mudblood- no, brownblood

Do you think I can get the same piercings you got?? y’know, those <://o

Sorry for tearing your neck baby

Do you ever still think of me?

Hey I know I was a handful but I hope we still had some nice times??

Thanks for getting me the stuff I left at your hive, sorry for the hassle <:( Sent some money to make up for it

[fantrollassemblage]

zinith are you excited for halloween?? are you going to dress up??

I’m so very e><

> Couple minutes of historical blathering later

OH AND, I got Mister Sariel (I know he wants me to

We were a

Ooooo I’m so e><

[fantrollassemblage]

"Bro.... that's so.... not cool...." from orlean to zinith or "i haven't forgotten you yet." From serres to viv.

“Z-Zinith, no, that’s... That’s not cool.” Orlean said, looking almost flabbergasted by the sheer ignorance of her seadweller matesprit.

Zinith cocked her head, “Why not? I just said he’s a redblood, so he’s bound to be a worse leader. I mean, if you look back at the empires, they were all-”

“No, I heard you. And honestly, I don’t give much of a fuck about what some old farts used to do; You can’t say shit like that,” she folded her arms, brow furrowed, “Especially not around me- No, Zinith, your historical stuff won’t change my mind about this. People are way too varied for you to just assume blood color will be a good indicator of what they can and can’t do. I don’t see you leading any great armies, for instance.”

The seadwellers fins sunk low and folded like the ears of a sad dog. “S-Sorry, Orlean, you know I didn’t mean anything by-”

“I know that babe, but you can’t use that as an excuse to keep saying this shit mindlessly,” She placed a sympathetic hand on the other troll’s shoulder, looking her in the eyes. “Think a lil’, ok?”

“Y-Yeah, ok. Sorry, Orlean...” she muttered, looking away. It was hard figuring out what was ok to say about the castes. Especially after all the - what did Orlean call it? Casual hemoism? - that your old mentor had drilled into you. “I’ll try to do better...”

“Good!” she smiled in hopes of encouragement, then get Zinith a kiss on the head. “You’ll get it soon, babe, I promise.”

[fantrollassemblage]

Zinith and Pademi: Have a BALL

> You sorta float around outside the massive ball building. Plenty of people are making their way inside already, while you are scanning for someone with the yellow-and-blue scarf to match the one tied around your neck and hung over your shoulder.

> You’ve spotted some of the ones with equally garish accessories tied to them, but none that matched your color scheme. You nervously tug at your suit lapel, wondering to yourself if you had done something wrong. Was some form not properly filled? Is the date waiting for you inside? Where are they?