He puts a clawed hand on the lionfolk's shoulder, giving a little firm shake and looking him in the eyes. "It happens to the best of us, brother. What kind of issues have you been having?"
"Well, I haven't liked anybody for a long time, maybe even 30 years. But, this Strugel... I can't figure out what it is I need to say to convince him to take a chance. I do all that I know, protect. I try atleast. And he tells me I'm better off elsewhere. He acts as if he himself is the Blight!" He sighs, taking another poiseful sip. "I know not how to advance. I'm not of the court to sway him with words, and I cant fight anything... I'm at a loss, sir."
"Well... what's he like? Strugels are supposed to be a highly comfort-oriented people. Born of the cold, they had to find warmth inside themselves. Maybe he couldn't find his own warmth among that of the others', so he thinks he doesn't have any. I dunno. Maybe I'm too focused on the analogy. I doubt I know the guy, so I'm making assumptions."
"We're landing, boy-o!" She laughs as the board slows its spin, heading straight for... "Oh, the poor garden!" She cackles. "Oh well, I didn't like those roses anyway!"
"Complexity is an important element of any good drink. Speaking of which, would you like to keep the mug? They're very good. Sturdy and easy to wash."
He cackles, continuing to hold on via his magically strong chain attached to his body.
He shakes his head, holding it back up to them “You should keep it, I have no need for something like that. My work requires I do things at almost all times, meaning I can’t make things for myself.”
They crash land, destroying the garden and sending debris flying everywhere. There is shouting from inside. Two hags step out the door. "I'm glad you finally got rid of that pretty garden, Greasegrip!" says the ancient grey one. "If only you could get rid of your pretty self!" Cackles the young, pretty one. The Crone swats the Maiden's head. "Then who would be the banker, you twit? We wouldn't be able to play monopoly!" "I could be the banker!" "You," the Crone says, jabbing a finger in her sister's face, "are a cheat." Granny Greasegrip climbs out of the crater. "Stop bickering, ladies! We have company!"
"That's a shame. It'll be here if you need it." He takes the mug and goes to wash it.
He's dressed in a red and gold nightgown with matching slippers and a floppy, pointed cap, as though he were getting ready for bed. He's got an entire tea set on a silver tray beside him, complete with a teapot, an extra cup, and cream and sugar. "I expected more... weird stuff. You know, exciting, illicit treats."
"I mean, there's lots of weird stuff here- just not the mind-breaking sort. At least, not to my knowledge."
He kicks his feet passively. "I mean, I get that, but I wanted some faeries or something."
"Well... what's he like? Strugels are supposed to be a highly comfort-oriented people. Born of the cold, they had to find warmth inside themselves. Maybe he couldn't find his own warmth among that of the others', so he thinks he doesn't have any. I dunno. Maybe I'm too focused on the analogy. I doubt I know the guy, so I'm making assumptions."
"I don't know much about him to tell ya... He's closed off, and seemingly hurt deeply. I asked around about him, Felix, and the consensus is he was." he sighs, pouring a liquid from a hip-flask into his mug. "I don't even know anymore."
"Maybe try asking him about it directly. Have you tried that? Actually, you probably have. If you really love him, I think you should try helping him. What are his strengths? I mean, what draws you to him?"
*salem finally ur on i can do the sale* Taika Mathide (that's the inventor's name) is waiting in the tavern for the proprietress.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3 Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult) I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3 Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
"We're landing, boy-o!" She laughs as the board slows its spin, heading straight for... "Oh, the poor garden!" She cackles. "Oh well, I didn't like those roses anyway!"
"Complexity is an important element of any good drink. Speaking of which, would you like to keep the mug? They're very good. Sturdy and easy to wash."
He cackles, continuing to hold on via his magically strong chain attached to his body.
He shakes his head, holding it back up to them “You should keep it, I have no need for something like that. My work requires I do things at almost all times, meaning I can’t make things for myself.”
They crash land, destroying the garden and sending debris flying everywhere. There is shouting from inside. Two hags step out the door. "I'm glad you finally got rid of that pretty garden, Greasegrip!" says the ancient grey one. "If only you could get rid of your pretty self!" Cackles the young, pretty one. The Crone swats the Maiden's head. "Then who would be the banker, you twit? We wouldn't be able to play monopoly!" "I could be the banker!" "You," the Crone says, jabbing a finger in her sister's face, "are a cheat." Granny Greasegrip climbs out of the crater. "Stop bickering, ladies! We have company!"
"That's a shame. It'll be here if you need it." He takes the mug and goes to wash it.
*We have BLTs but I can't get into the kitchen.*
The company, being Geralt meekly waves at all of them, sheathing his magical sword and bowing respectfully to all of them, looking radiant despite trying to be respectful.
He stands up, an ethereal mist around him “I don’t believe I caught your name sir, and I would prefer to remember you.”
He's dressed in a red and gold nightgown with matching slippers and a floppy, pointed cap, as though he were getting ready for bed. He's got an entire tea set on a silver tray beside him, complete with a teapot, an extra cup, and cream and sugar. "I expected more... weird stuff. You know, exciting, illicit treats."
"I mean, there's lots of weird stuff here- just not the mind-breaking sort. At least, not to my knowledge."
He kicks his feet passively. "I mean, I get that, but I wanted some faeries or something."
*sorry about the delay*
She pulls over a chair and sits a few feet away. "I get that. I mean, sometimes people become the exciting illicit threats, as you said, or they make their own, but that doesn't happen often. And it has intrigue, sure, just not the same kind as faeries and such."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
*Mn*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
"Well... what's he like? Strugels are supposed to be a highly comfort-oriented people. Born of the cold, they had to find warmth inside themselves. Maybe he couldn't find his own warmth among that of the others', so he thinks he doesn't have any. I dunno. Maybe I'm too focused on the analogy. I doubt I know the guy, so I'm making assumptions."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He sighs “You want to move in with me? Whenever you want to I’ll be happy to help with that. You can take the bed I’ll take the couch.”
“I never stayed anywhere long enough, that’s why I lack a faith I can hold to.”
He sighs, his arms going slack at his sides, a bit of his school uniform shifting. (Okarun style)
He quickly finishes the food, cleaning the plate to the point of everything being gone on it.
*That sounds awful, I wish I could do something about it.*
They crash land, destroying the garden and sending debris flying everywhere. There is shouting from inside. Two hags step out the door. "I'm glad you finally got rid of that pretty garden, Greasegrip!" says the ancient grey one. "If only you could get rid of your pretty self!" Cackles the young, pretty one. The Crone swats the Maiden's head. "Then who would be the banker, you twit? We wouldn't be able to play monopoly!" "I could be the banker!" "You," the Crone says, jabbing a finger in her sister's face, "are a cheat." Granny Greasegrip climbs out of the crater. "Stop bickering, ladies! We have company!"
"That's a shame. It'll be here if you need it." He takes the mug and goes to wash it.
*We have BLTs but I can't get into the kitchen.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He kicks his feet passively. "I mean, I get that, but I wanted some faeries or something."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He raises an eyebrow “Cuddleable? Do you see these horns? The sword maybe?” He says, shaking his head.
After her skin turned back to a normal color she turns beet red again, shifting in place, her hands tightly clasped together.
He nods “But aren’t we too young to drink?” He says, getting next to her, holding her hand as he looks to his feet.
He looks at her, guilty as charged “Would you believe me if I said no?”
"Maybe try asking him about it directly. Have you tried that? Actually, you probably have. If you really love him, I think you should try helping him. What are his strengths? I mean, what draws you to him?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*salem finally ur on i can do the sale*
Taika Mathide (that's the inventor's name) is waiting in the tavern for the proprietress.
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) just trying to spread a little positivity wherever I can<3
Soli Deo Gloria(Sed servus eius crustulum vult)
I'm a disabled, neurodivergent, dumpster fire, and somewhat of a clown, but I do my best :3
Crafter of Constellations, vocaloid enjoyer, waluigi’s #1 fan, space alien, danganer of ronpas, and certified silly goose
Internet big sib to aspeninthetrees, TheGatoLover, (and hopefully more)
*Turkey soup to warm the soul.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
The company, being Geralt meekly waves at all of them, sheathing his magical sword and bowing respectfully to all of them, looking radiant despite trying to be respectful.
He stands up, an ethereal mist around him “I don’t believe I caught your name sir, and I would prefer to remember you.”
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*sorry about the delay*
She pulls over a chair and sits a few feet away. "I get that. I mean, sometimes people become the exciting illicit threats, as you said, or they make their own, but that doesn't happen often. And it has intrigue, sure, just not the same kind as faeries and such."
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
He smiles, kissing them softly on the forehead “I suppose I’m not.”
One of her hands reaches out towards them, though she continues to look away, getting only redder and redder.
He comes willingly, looking up to the woman he somehow ended up with, surprising himself.
He takes the second helping, moving through that one quickly too before looking back up “Sorry baby, I’ll be better, I promise not to starve myself.”