recordkeeper

Maia jumped the last few feet off the ladder, then followed Clerus's path, watching the monsters carefully before she gets there.

-- Insert conversation involving a hyperactive dancing mini-dragon and an infodump. Summary: Maia's denizen is Hel, sister to Clerus' denizen and she rules over death. Also has a knife named Famine. --

"So farr, we have to destrroy one worrld, and on anotherr, we have to defeat death itself. At least they'rre making it challenging," Clerus mused. One can only hope Maia was capable of lip-reading, as he didn't think to say it any louder than standard volume.

-- violaceousSadogue began pestering fortifiedBichrome --
VS: What??? Oo
FB: WE'RRE destrroying one worrld and defeating death on ANOTHERR. IT'S quite drramatic, don't you THINK?
VS: Just a touch, yeah.
VS: Gotta wonder what they were thinking. We're bringing about the apolcalypse while rendering everyone immortal. d____________b
FB: DON'T suppose you've got an inkling as to who the next denizen IS? WE have two left, afterr ALL.
FB: AND it seems to me that it'll only get WORRSE.
FB: WE just have to figurre out HOW.
FB: ...NORRMALLY I'd type about making a face, but turrn toward me and I'll do you the favorr of giving genuine visual AID.

He did, in fact, stick out his gray tongue at Maia in an oddly childish fashion. Perhaps it was simply to fulfill the obligatory image required in the conversation.

She returned the gesture, sticking her thumbs in her ears and wiggling her fingers just to top him.

VS: IF I'm right, and there's no guarentee of that, I suspect it'll be Fenrir.
FB: WHO'S THAT?
VS: You'll have to ask Melinda, she's more into mythology than I am.
FB: I'M going to guess at this point that this is all parrt of yourr human mythology, THEN?
FB: AND not just rrandom names attrributed to parrticular RROLES?
VS: Unfortunately, you're exactly right.
VS: This is from norse mythology so far.
FB: UNFORRTUNATELY? I would think that it being prredictable would be beneficial to YOU.
VS: Only somewhat. Just tells us what they're likely to be able to do.
FB: SO I take it, at least in the game sense, we'rre expected to be killing GODS?
FB: AND that isn't even ourr final QUEST?
VS: YEP.
FB: IS being excited about this a bad THING?
VS: Not really? I mean I'm not but enthusiasm should be a good thing, useful at least.
FB: WHAT else would you rrecommend doing while we're HERRE?
FB: ASIDE frrom perrhaps killing a few of the local MONSTERRS.
FB: AFTERR all, we need morre grrist if we want to alchemize some morre useful ARRMAMENTS.
FB: BYRROSS mentioned something about side-QUESTS.
VS: Yeah, and if we've gotta kill gods we should get good at killing off their underlings first, right?
VS: And sidequests sound fun! Did he mention what kind or was Mel too busy trying to kick him in the balls?
FB: SOMETHING about puzzles and item RRETRRIEVAL.
FB: HE was a little vague, mentioning something about skirrt SHOTS.
FB: WHICH may have actually been rregarrding whateverr issue he was having with MELINDA.
FB: HE said that "grrinding quests" wouldn't be likely in a game like this ONE.
VS: Hrm, interesting...
VS: Guess we should rough up the hooligans and then search out some questgivers.

MONTAGE

...What, you didn't really expect us to go through the tedium of writing out multiple gratuitous fight scenes of no importance, did you? That'd just be silly, especially considering both typists have professed a lack of interest in such ventures. No, first we'll be focusing on how the human and the troll, utilizing the power of the disease sometimes referred to as friendship, had to put together an ancient jigsaw puzzle to learn the true purpose of their titles! Of course, as the world was home to Maia rather than Clerus, it would only specify her particular duties, not those of the troll serving as her bodyguard. However, considering they're two aspects of the same meshing element, of course, their duties tie into eachother. But enough of the meta dissertation, onto the fun.

The concept of finding ruins in a land that was one giant carnival was ludicrous. Between the simple fact that pretty much everywhere was occupied by... well, it was modern equipment by Maia's standards, and the last Alternian carnival all those sweeps ago likely wasn't much more advanced. What few places could actually remain without being desecrated by popcorn butter and burnt-out glowsticks? The amount of garbage laying around grated on Clerus, who took out his frustrations on the local monsters.

The thought that a ferris wheel stood adjacent to a tunnel leading into some kind of catacomb? It was silly, but that didn't make it any less true. The troll had to duck slightly as he entered, the ceiling only giving six feet of clearance to the floor. He inwardly hoped he didn't have to fight anything in there.

Maia ducks occasionally out of habit - she barely has clearance, after all - and lets Clerus lead the way. "Eugh..." Her hand sneaks up, grasping his arm as they walk trhough the tunnel.

As he brushes cobwebs aside with his other arm, the seagrift takes notice of the hand upon the other. A bemused harrumph escapes his chitinous windhole as they progress. But as they go along, it's more and more clear that the architecture was designed by Maia's consorts, FOR Maia's consorts - to the point where the ceiling narrows enough to require crawling to go further. Oddly enough, it's still almost comfortably wide.

That doesn't please Maia a bit. "Oh come on, seriously...?" She sighed. "Shit my knees are gonna kill me later..."

Clerus glanced over his shoulder at Maia, giving a thoughtful hum. "Therre's a way to prreserrve them, if you don't mind getting yourr clothes dirrty," he offered. Rather than wait for her to ask for an explanation, the troll simply rolled onto his back and started scooting himself along with his feet. Granted, it'd be less practical for someone with longer hair or, well, more skin showing, but it was better than nothing.

She sighed and shook her head, then pulled her trenchcoat from her sylladex and followed suit. "Just gotta hope nothin' attacks us..."

"Prromise to strrangle it. Only imps would fit down herre," Clerus reassured her with a small chuckle. Luckily, there wasn't much distance left to go before the tunnel opened into a large unlit room. The silence was as deafening as the noise from the surface world had been. The ceiling vaulted far above their heads, though the two couldn't really tell without breaking out something to see with.

"'Kay." She stretched with relief when they hit the unlit room. "So. Got a flashlight?" She titlted her head to one side.

Used to searching wreckage and ruins, going around without a flashlight would be to Clerus what going without a whip would be to Troll Indiana Jones! With a vague smirk, the troll procured the item in question - it really was quite fortunate that the nautical aristocracy used terms oddly similar to what humans used - and turned it on. And promptly gave the two a feel for just how vast the room was.

It looked eerily similar to some kind of chapel, until one saw the sarcophagi lining the walls. But they were designed for the fire lizards rather than anything particularly humanoid. Unlit candelabras dotted the area, stone benches lay in varying states of disarray. The far end of the room, a good three hundred feet away, was too far for the flashlight to give any detail in spite of being relatively modern for something Clerus had managed to get his hands on.

And all the troll had to say in response to their first glimpse at what was very likely some sort of ancient tomb was "Hrm."

"Woah." Maia gaped in shock, clutching Clerus' arm hard. "W, woah." He's not getting his arm back for a while. She's not so much scared as startled.

As much as she was intent upon clinging to his arm, the troll was eager to explore. Once again, he was in his element, even if he could tell pretty much at a glance that little, if anything, was salvageable. It was primarily stone, after all. His instincts caused him to walk down the aisle, Maia in tow, as he approached the far end of the room.

Their proximity eventually allowed the flashlight to illuminate the far wall - a giant cog symbol was carved, stretching across the entirety of the width of that face of the chapel. A pulpit, covered in the dust of the ages, sat very conspiciously on a raised platform in front of this symbol. And behind that, on a dais...

This was absolutely ridiculous. Clerus shook his head in disbelief.

There was some kind of BRUSH. Or, at least, the top half, jutting out of a stone block. Around it sat related implements - if trolls had actually cared for their dead, Clerus might recognize it as tools generally used by a mortician to ready a body to be put on display in a coffin.

"What the shit?!" Maia gaped, letting Clerus tug her forward. She slowly releases his arm so she can investigate. "What's up with the cog...?" She examined that for a moment, before examining the tools.

"It's... not attached to anything, so I couldn't rreelly tell you," the glubgrub admitted, giving the giant carving a pensive look even as he angled the flashlight to better illuminate the objects of Maia's interest. "Which only means it's symbolic somehow."

The tools were indeed ancient, and were most of what any person of the related profession would make use of. A touch of dye, to make someone seem less old on the day of their demise, turning back the clock just a touch. Scissors to trim the hair one last time. The brush to aid in styling it. It was all ornate and silver, looking borderline ceremonial, as if preparing corpses had once been heavily ritualized by the locals.

"Pretty." She mumbled, walking behind it so she can get a look at the back. "Huh. Well. That's blunt." She mumbled. "Wonder why it started with card thirteen though." She reached out to pull it from the pedestal. Carved into the back is a skeleton in a suit of armor on a horse, a king, bishop, woman, and child before the horse. A sun rises or sets between two towers in the distance, and the figure on the horse holds a flag with a rose.

"I take it I'm missing a lot of symbolism," Clerus remarked rather bluntly, tossing a glance at the images that were being observed by Maia. He decided that the giant cog was more or less meaningless to them at this point, and crouched next to her to "help" examine her findings.

She tugged, growling a little. "Come on, stupid thing's stuck..."

The troll gave the brush an appraising look, then frowned thoughtful. "I could trry, but I'm just as likely to brreak it," he informed her.

"Yeah. Huh..." She sighed softly. "Guess it's time to find out what's going on with being the Keeper of Time or some shit."

He blinked, furrowing his brow as he moved to a sitting position. "Is that what this is about? Looks like something forr hairr carre to me." Ahh, yes, cultural ignorance. Truly a beautiful thing.

"Well, it's a weapon coded to my strife specibus, if it isn't meant for the keeper of time to use it doesn't make a lot of sense, right?" She shrugged. "Therefore it probably takes some kinda time power to unlock it, but fuck if I know how to use it."

A grin crept onto his features, and Clerus quirked an eyebrow as he shifted his gaze over to Maia. "Maybe you should trry to go to a time when it's not stuck?" the troll asked. "Though I don't think time trravel happens quite so spontaneously, it wouldn't make sense. And the brrush wouldn't be herre if you had gone back to do that unless you came back to put it in when you werre done with it. Parradox space surre is... something."

"Yeah it is." She agreed, tugging on her ponytail. "I don't think it does either and I'm not entirely sure how to even make something to help with that... guess that's the challenge."

"And now I'm wonderring what space entails," he mused, shifting so that he could set his back to the podium and let the flashlight simply dangle from his hand while still providing the appropriate amount of light. "Maybe... depth perrception, hah."

"Haha maybe." She nodded a little, rubbing her chin. "Let's keep exploring maybe?"

"Well, I suppose we could still look in those boxes," he mused, shoving himself back to his feet after that miniscule break. The "boxes" were the previously mentioned sarcophagi lining the walls, and as if to emphasize the initiative, Clerus began walking over toward the nearest one.

"Those are freaking sarcophagi." She shook her head. "Maybe though." She nodded, following him and shuddering a little. "But... coffins."

"You've lost me on that one," the troll stated bluntly, pausing as he reached the sarcophagus to inspect the general shape of the thing. It had a painting of what was presumably the occupant when they had been slightly less dead, though stylized moderately. Clerus tapped it lightly, listening to see just how hollow it was.

She sighed. "Uh, a holder for the dead."

"Why would you even storre yourr dead? That's rridiculous," he scoffed, then forced the coffin open. Much to his surprise, the contents were not just bones, but also a large heap of sand that filled up most of the rest of the container.

"... What the hell? It's to pay respect to them. Either burial or burning." She stared at it, confused.

"Must be a weirrd culturral thing. We just leave ourr corrpses to the animals," Clerus said with a shrug, running his fingers through the sand. He tapped the sarcophagus one more time before deciding to inspect the next one over, to see if it had been filled in a similar fashion. Surely it was no surprise when it turned out that it too held bones and sand, but nothing else. Apparently, the fire lizards didn't bury one another with belongings.

She shook her head and shuddered. "This is bizarre." She sighed, then reached down to touch it out of curiosity.

...On a whim, the glubgrub decided to captchalogue the skeleton he was adjacent to, though he wound up with the sarcophagus as a whole. He didn't bother to remark how silly it was to have a container in a container, as that would clearly invoke some other rule of silly. He wandered back over toward the giant gear carving, which wound up leaving Maia temporarily in the dark.

"CLAR-IE!" Maia let out an indignant shriek at being left in the dark, then noticed the faint red glow surrounding her hand... "WHAT THE FUCK!" The sand's glowing.

Her apparent dismay overrode Clerus's instinctive reaction to bark at her for her language, and the troll immediately closed the distance between them with a series of quick steps. Granted, he wound up pointing the flashlight back toward her in the process, and so missed what caused her surprise. "...What happened?"

"You left me in the dark!" She practically jumps him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Okay, apparently someone's a bit afraid of the dark. "And, and, and, the sand was glowing."

With the flashlight being held in his hand and not anchored to, say, his head, Maia's choice in position wound up largely obscuring any light that would've been cast over Clerus's face. It was actually quite dramatic, with the simple fact that she could feel his presence quite literally, it was highly unlikely that she'd freak out any further over it. Be that as it may, the troll was more focused on her words for the moment. "Glowing? What kind of glowing?" he asked.

"Glowing-glowing." She clung harder, shaking a little. "Like, it was glowing red."

With a thoughtful hum, he shut off the flashlight entirely so as to make it easy to see the glow for himself. Picking up Maia in a fashion that, at this rate, would become normal for them, Clerus crept close enough to examine said glowing sand. "Well... that's interresting. Wonderr what that means?" he asked aloud, even though he wasn't expecting Maia to have an answer.

"I dunno. Can we turn the light back on?" Her legs wrap around him tightly and she clutches at him like he's the only solid thing on earth.

He took a moment to grin at Maia's expense for a moment, but made certain his features were properly placid as he placed the flashlight in her hand. "Considerr it a gift," he told her with a wry tone.

She quickly turned it on, still clutching at him. Looks like he gets to play security blanket for a bit now.

Clerus tilted an eyebrow at the woman clinging to him, then decided to quietly cough. "Wherre to next, fearrless leaderr?" he asked quietly, affecting a gently teasing tone in an attempt to get her to calm down.

"You're hilarious Clarie." She told him flatly, then sighed. "You grabbed one of those, didn't you?"

"Neverr know when you'll need it," he said with a mildly defensive tone. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I have ideas but let's go back to my place, okay?" She doesn't even think about how hard Mel would laugh on hearing that.

Clerus seemed almost... disappointed to leave behind the ominous darkness, boots thudding against the stone floor as he moved back to the tunnel that had lead them to this area in the first place. He gave a polite cough, letting Maia know that it was time for her to drop down so that he could get down on all fours properly.

She reluctantly got down as he requested, sighing softly. "Here goes."

He patted her shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion, then dropped down to properly thrust himself into the darkness of the tunnel. Rather than simply go on in silence this time, Clerus tried to strike up a conversation with Maia to improve her spirits. "What do you drream about usually?"

She follows, training the light ahead of them. "Uhm, I don't really dream. Something about... a golden city."

He blinked at that, and gave a thoughtful frown. For just a moment, he forgot to keep sliding along the tunnel. "Wait, what? Tell me morre about the golden city!"

She scoots right into him. "Ow!!" She rubbed her head. "I don't remember anything about it, just that it's gold."

"No... white carrapace crreaturres wearring garrish pastel garrb?" he asked, but masked the question with a sarcastic tone as if to insinuate it was some kind of cultural inside joke. The bump against his boots prompted him to start moving again.

She grumbled. "No, nothing like that at all. Just like, my room, but gold, and there's a city outside the windows."

"Sounds... garrish," he murmured, taking on a more pensive tone as they reached an area where the tunnel would finally allow them to stand again, albeit requiring bending over. "Is that the only thing you drream about?"

"Yeah." She nodded, standing sowly and rubbing her head again.

A quiet harrumph, perhaps of disappointment or confusion, left the seagrift as they started to go for a moderately swifter pace. Apparently, he was curious regarding what the sand-related plan was, and wanted to get back to Maia's house.

She lets him lead, but quickly clutches onto his arm again.

A general head for accurate navigation allowed Clerus to relatively easily lead the human back to her home, with fairly minimal engagements with the enemy. He shook his head periodically at some of the more ludicrous ride designs, idly wondering why anyone would want to subject themselves to sheer terror. When they arrived at the ladder leading up to Maia's house, Clerus took it at the usual pace, waiting to help Maia up at the top.

Maia let him help her up, though she looked at some of the rides with interest. She suspects he'll be glad to take the earplugs out again. She yanked on her ponytail again, opening the door for them.

Indeed the glubgrub WAS quite pleased with the opportunity to pull the earplugs out, and swap to an untinted set of goggles. It felt inestimably silly wearing anything even related to shades when venturing through an area that would've been black if not for local lighting. In other words, wearing sunglasses at night just seemed ridiculous.

Walking over to the punch designix, Clerus removed the card for the sarcophagus, waving it around for Maia to grab at her leisure. "Orr would you rratherr having something IN it, like the skeleton orr sand?" he asked.

"The sand, actually, I have an idea. I'll be right back." She grinned a little, heading further into the house. She grabs an eggtimer hourglass from the kitchen and a tarp so they don't get the stuff all over the floor.

Waiting for Maia to lay the tarp out, Clerus then placed the sarcophagus, contents included, upon the plastic. He lifted the lid, believing for reasons unbeknownst to him that such was expected of him. Maybe it was like opening a car door for a lady. Who knows? Either way, he wound up placing the lid in his sylladex where the sarcophagus had once been. "Dead lizarrd sand plus... hourrglass... equals?"

"We're gonna find out." She scooped up and captchaloged a handful of it, then started fucking with the alchemiter. It takes her several tries but eventually she manages to get an egg timer filled with the lizard sand.

The typist with the blue text is going to go with a less literal interpretation of what precisely Maia was doing with the alchemiter, as otherwise we have a technophile on our hands. That aside, Clerus watched with only vague interest, mixed primarily with confusion at what primarily the human was trying to accomplish. Maybe she wanted an hourglass she could watch in the dark?

Maia holds it up, considering. "Just gonna test a theory." She concentrates on it, and disappears abruptly. She's sent herself a few seconds into the future.

"...Well, that was differrent," Clerus mused as Maia popped back into existence. "Wherre'd you go?"

"To here." She grinned. "I thought the sand might be reacting to me, and I was right!"

He shook his head. What the hell was she saying, "To here"? "You'rre exactly wherre you werre a few seconds ago, all you did was ping out forr a moment."

She laughed. "I just pushed myself a few seconds into the future."

"Does..." he started hesitantly, scratching his chin in thought. "Does it worrk both ways? Orr only going forrwarrd?"

"Uhm... I'm not sure..."

He tilted an eyebrow at Maia, giving what amounted to an almost impatient sigh. He supposed that, when it came down to it, she had all the time in the world to figure this one out. But as it was, sometimes the obvious needed to be said. "Therre's an easy way to find out."

"Yeah, but, what about paradoxes and such?" She tilted her head to one side.

"Well, you'd have to rreturrn to this time afterr testing it. But if you go back beforre we arrived, therre shouldn't be a prroblem," he pointed out, shrugging. "But I'm not the one with the chrronology-rrelated destiny." A toothy grin was offered to the woman upon the delivery of that last statement, as if he were either teasing her in a friendly fashion or giving a slight poke at how he somehow was more familiar with the subject than her.

She grinned back at him. "Point taken." She took a step back and fiddled with it, disappearing again.

She returns just a few seconds later and shakes her head. "That was trippy as hell."

"So it didn't worrk? Fizzled somehow?" He was mostly leaning on the fact that she'd shaken her head, which was generally regarded as a negatory. "I can't imagine that going forrwarrd only would be useful forr anything otherr than an escape strrategy."

"No, no, it worked. Just dizzying." She smiled slightly.

"Should I get Byrross to give you a crrash courrse in temporral inevitability and parradoxes, then?" Clerus asked, sounding actually quite sincere. Some might find it amusing how easily the aristocrat deferred to the knowledge of the greenblood.

"That... would probably be a good idea. Maybe he'll have an idea for a better way to control this." Maia doesn't find it odd, as she's figured out relying on Byross is probably going to be a Thing.

-- insert proper memo heading as started by Clerus --
CFB: IN the interrest of saving multiple explanations on the subject, I'm posting this memo forr Byrross's use in explaining exactly how time trravel worrks, as he has an uncanny knack forr knowing rrandom mechanics of RREALITY.
CFB: WHILE larrgely forr Maia's benefit, this also stands as a rreferrence tool, in case anything of this naturre is rraised at a laterr DATE.
CFB: ORR a prrevious one, as the case may BE.
CFB: GLUB.
-- CURRENT urbaneVagrant [UV] RIGHT NOW began responding to memo --
CUV: so th'first thing that an amateur grade chronomancer oughtta know is th' concept o' alpha timelines an' offshoot timelines
CUV: paradox space don't really appreciate deviation from th' main plan it has set in store fer us as a matter of fate
CUV: anything what doesn't fall into th'set paths already define by paradox space winds up in th' offshoot timeline
CUV: an' anything from an offshoot timeline what pops back up in th'main timeline doesn't have much of a shot of livin' to a ripe old age
CUV: on account of not belonging in th'first place c|;p
CUV: if'n y'see alternate version of yerself goin' 'bout th'usual tasks
CUV: they're part of th' main timeline in what's called a stable time loop
CUV: means ye're destined t'pop forward or back t'that spot at some point anyway an' paradox space has decided that it's cool with that
CFB: GLUB GLUB.
CUV: what th'hells was that fer
CFB: I'M not SURRE.
CUV: jes' step away from th'rainbow spewin' keyboard if'n ye're gonna get nervous th'moment i go into detail 'bout stable time loops c|;p
CFB: IT'S a hands-frree device, Maia helped think it UP.
-- CURRENT violaceousSadouge [CVS] RIGHT NOW began responding to memo --
CVS: o_o Don't you blame this on ME buddy!
CVS: I made it for myself.
CFB: IT'S not blame, it's an EXPLANATION.
CFB: I see nothing wrrong with the DEVICE.
CUV: well i wish th' pale weirdo what i've got t'keep a flippin' ocular globe on was half as cooperative
CUV: maybe jes' a tad less predictable too with th'thrown bottles
CUV: though i daresay her aim's gettin' a tad better ahahaahahaha
CVS: Mel likes throwing things yeah.
CVS: So. Stable time loops...
CUV: rightright back on task an' all that nonsense
CUV: so if'n y'spot yerself it may be good t'take a mental note of where y'found yer future self on account of needin' t'pop back there at some point fer whatever nebulous purpose y'got
CUV: an' dun' panic if'n y'see yer own corpse it's likely jes' an offshoot self
CUV: which like i said tend t'buck th' kicket pretty quick
CUV: or it could be th'alpha you jes' further in th'past future y'never know
CUV: but nobody said that time travel was fer those what got a sunny disposition at all times
CUV: past an' future are all about th' ol' grimdarkdoom an' all that syncopation
CUV: hrmmm dun' think i'm forgettin' anything at th'moment
CUV: anything more specific'd prolly be in th'perview of yer personal powers an' whatnot
CVS: ._. I should start carrying a shovel then, I take it.
CVS: I've just got a struggle with getting it to work. I seem to need some sort of device and the egg timer I modified isn't that helpful.
CVS: So dizzy. Thought I was going to puke.
CUV: we talkin' wind up egg timer or th' hourglass flavor
CVS: Hourglass
CUV: mebbe if'n y'dun wanna get dizzy y'could swap it fer summat what don't do the flippin' thing t' get time goin'

Maia facepalmed, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking of that.

Clerus chuckled quietly, but patted Maia reassuringly, as he hadn't even thought of combining the sand with some kind of timer in the first place.

CUV: an' when ye're done hidin' yer shame behind yer hands mebbe y'oughtta look into summat more digital
CUV: like if'n y'got a wristwatch or mebbe an alarm clock
CUV: it'd be interesting if y'could wriggle yer way int' summat what'd let y'do coordinates too but i'd venture t'say that'd require some space influence rather'n time
CVS: Ah.
CVS: ... I have an idea.
CVS: And I wasn't hiding my shame I was smacking myself for not thinking of that in the first place.
CUV: whatever y'wanna call it marm
CVS: 8P

Maia pulls something from her sylladex and starts fussing with the alchemiter again. "Damnit, not quite enough grist for this..."

Clerus peered over Maia's shoulder, peeking at the requirements for the device she had in mind. Granted, he didn't really know what the ipod is, figuring it for perhaps something analogous to a grubphone. Never you mind that she'd already pulled out a phone before, which was by no means that close to what the human was using at the time.

"We could... mindlessly kill monsterrs until you have what you need," he suggested. "Might as well go up a few rrungs on ourr echeladderrs. Unless you have an alterrnative that sounds morre pleasant than the grrinding?"

"Nnnnnope." She shook her head. "And we need to get up there anyways." She stretched. Again, the typists feel no need to write out gratuitous fight scenes.

However, one typist does feel the need to express mild disappointment at how Maia had apparently overlooked a double entendre of sorts. Ah, well, such is life, and when dealing with those who have a large enough cultural barrier between them, expecting a few unintentional innuendos slide is understandable.

We rejoin our... heroes, I guess, upon their return to the hive the following night - not that one would've been able to tell the difference, due to the passing of time being largely meaningless in the rave that was, uhh... LO... Come on, typist number two, help me out here. Land of Something and... it wasn't mirth... Land of Celebration and ??? Land of Festivals and ... fuck. Typist number two doesn't remember either. One moment. Ah, Glow and Festivities.

Eh, whatever.

However, their return was a little less pleasant than the previous one - properly mobbed by more monsters than even Clerus could shake a stick at (not for lack of trying), the two had been forced to flee and try to disappear into the dazzling lights. Grayish-purple blood trailed behind them as they fled, dripping from a number of gashes in Clerus's arms. The troll was exhausted by the time they actually managed to reach the relative safety of Maia's home. However, keeping in mind the etiquette of not bleeding on the hardwood (considering she'd given him a chewing out the previous time he'd gotten any kind of fluid there), the troll opted to simply sit on the platform that was holding the building aloft.

Maia was dripping a bit of bright red blood as well, though she quickly ate one of her candies to heal herself. She sat next to him, patting his shoulder lightly. "Didja run outta fish Clarie?" She offered him the bag of them.

There was, in fact, a distinct lack of fish in Clerus's sylladex, which gave the glubgrub a moderate cause for dismay. "Errrr, thanks," he murmured as he took the bag from Maia, meticulously unwrapping one of the candies. He gave it a disconsolate stare for a moment before finally popping it in his mouth.

It was an awful lot like watching someone not used to the taste drink something with hard liquor in it. He was entirely unused to food with sugar in it, and had no idea what to think of the powerful taste. Clerus's tongue wound up traversing pretty much all of the nooks and crannies of his maw as he tried to make certain that there'd be no maddening vestiges taunting him with that taste later.

Granted, the candy itself wasn't as compatible with the aristocrat as it could've been, and it took several of them to restore him to a point where he was battered and bruised rather than half-broken and bleeding. Apparently, that was going to have to suffice, and Clerus returned the bag of candy to Maia.

Maia winced in sympathy, despite clearly wanting to howl with laughter at the look on his face. "Bit better?" Her arm somehow ended up winding around his arm, and her head cautiously rested against it as well.

Around then Granddolly sprite wanders to them and begins fussing over them.

-- Insert sprite log with lots of fussing and asking why Maia hasn't given Granddolly sprite great grandchildren yet, and then healing laser? --

Clerus blinked as Granddolly Sprite wandered off to keep the area clean of imps, then turned to Maia. "Yourr sprrite has half the amount of heads of mine but talks easily thrree times as much," he commented. Sometime after entering the Medium, he'd wound up prototyping the sailor sprite with his lusus, who had fallen in epic battle. Which really hadn't been so epic, considering Clacktacular had barely fought back against the ogre before being crushed.

"He was like that when he was alive too. Man can talk a blue streak." Maia agreed, still blushing bright red from the great grandchildren discussion. "And needs to keep his nose in his own damn business too."

He wrinkled his nose slightly as he considered what in particular was causing Maia to blush like that. "I'm sure he's just yanking yourr line just to, uhh... embarrrrass you in frront of company?"

"I should certainly hope so, since Mel and I are the only humans left and it doesn't work that way."

"Oh. Rright. Yourr weirrd live birrth nonsense," Clerus said understandingly as he nodded. "Carrrrying a half-forrmed grrub forr howeverr long just seems... inefficient," he mused while pulling himself to his feet. It was high time they actually set foot in the house, rather than wait to see if the blood would come out of Clerus's overshirt.

"...Did we actually get enough grrist, orr werre we forrced to abscond too earrly?"

"Uh... We'll have to check." She shrugged. "I agree. So ew. And the screaming and the bleeding and the paining." She stumbled to her feet and inside, yawning a bit. She's quite tired from fighting all day, and kind of wonders why Byross and Mel haven't stopped by yet.

==========================

The fact of the matter was that the Land of Steam and Dismay was by no means easy to traverse, especially with as dissonant a pairing as Mel and Byross being the two who were supposed to work together. The troll had, at the first opportunity, already provided himself not only with a computing monocle, but shades for the same purpose. A number of outfits were also created, right down to proper resizings of some of his older threads that he hadn't worn in over four sweeps.

Not that he'd grown much. He was, after all, only 5'4".

For the time being, Byross had ditched the darker garb in favor of what someone with at least a little American history acumen would recognize as a prohibition era outfit. It was pure happenstance that the troll used the style, though, not to mention a touch ironic considering his less than sober demeanor. For that matter, he'd also managed to alchemize a hefty amount of bottles of licquor, so as to refrain from actually running out. This included, of course, the horns of mind honey mead, which Mel might've noticed he treated with a strange measure of reverence.

The search for Byross's second gate hadn't been going particularly well. The fuzzy little dropbears that were his consorts were more or less useless - the alcohol they somehow managed to always have on hand affected them far more significantly than it did the troll. Though at least they looked a little posh, wearing vests and bowlers.

There was also the natural hazard of the random jets of steam that forced Byross to pull Melinda out of the way on more than one occasion - even he wasn't fully certain why, but he had something of a sixth sense regarding where the steam buildups were in the first place. Not that he was particularly gracious or gentle about tugging the woman along.

As was his usual, the troll had been trying to elicit any conversation he could from Melinda when not schmoozing with the locals. He didn't even pause his words when taking aim and dispatching the monsters, regardless of whether it was at a range with his rifle or dancing toe to toe with them and blasting them apart with the shotgun. That wasn't to say that he wasn't giving Melinda ample opportunity to practice the fine art of combat.

But the fact of the matter was that his constant poking, prodding, teasing, wheedling, and otherwise jabbering about nothing would've gotten on ANYone's nerves after a while. It made it rather ironic that an ace of hearts was thrust through the band on his fedora.

Which was likely why Melinda had made it a game to throw bottles at Byross any time he started up with the senseless chatter. While perfectly happy with conversing, constant small talk quickly wore on the tiny psychic.

The only problem with the throwing of the bottles was that any sort of therapeutic beatings Melinda could've garnered were blocked by uncanny reflexed on the part of the drunkard. Hell, half the time he just caught the bottle with a laugh and started juggling it for a bit. Rambling was the name of the game for Byross, even if the human was going to be impatient.

He never explained the reasoning running through his mind, never gave her any hints as to why he knew what he did. All the warning she would get was a line to the effect of "A'ight, now we're runnin' off this way, marm. Do try t'keep up, ahahaha!" For all the violence, the need to cope with not one mass extinction but two, and for whatever else might have been bothering the mad hatter, Byross was still treating the whole thing very much like a game. A knowing grin, a bemused chuckle if something didn't work as planned - it was all just a source of entertainment to him.

And thus they found themselves climbing brass piping on their way to LOSAD's second gate. Or, at least, that was what the marksman claimed as he donned a pair of thick leather gloves, tossing a matching pair to Melinda, directly before the ascent had begun. The clothing was necessary, given that all of the pipes were painful to touch due to the steam inside of them heating the metal.

"So, y'never did tell me 'bout why ye're so buggy 'bout th'spooks an' specters, marm. Did'ja jes' take it upon yerself t'try t'protect the world from them'r is it jes' summat of a calling?" he called out over his shoulder, having to raise his voice to be heard over the frequent hissing of heated water.

She glared up at him. "Never you mind." Climbing was not Melinda's favorite thing in the world, and trying to talk while doing so was even worse. It wasn't even worth throwing something up at him, as it was liable to hit her in the face on the way down.

A questioning brow was raised as he managed to reach a moderately sized ledge, but the expression had receded to the usual smug amusement as Melinda caught up. Rather than immediately proceed, though, Byross felt the need to press the matter. "I dunno, I think it's jes' a touch on th'relevant side. Might give a few pieces o' insight as t'yer general motivations an' why ye're always so stern. All work an' no play makes Mel a dull grub. If'n it'll help provide motivation, marm, I'll even let y'ask a question in return."

She sat and continued to glare.

He frowned slightly, giving a sigh for emphasis. Women. Always so obstinate. "Listen, we're s'posed t'be dependin' on eachother here, an' hells if I know jes' how far I can trust someone what I hardly know beyond a couple o' nights of mutual aggression. While that's all well an' good fer a buddin' relationship, most folks dun' start a friendship under th' circumstances of bein' back t'back fightin' monsters together, they've got time t'work things out b'fore the ol' dramabeast comes along."

"Fine. They don't leave me alone. Evidently they were left behind when I was pulled through."

"Have y'ever figured out th' p'ticulars as t'why, or is it jes' summat y'roll with?" he asked, leaning against the pipes. Multiple layers made it reasonably easy for him to stand the increase in temperature, but it'd eventually require him to step away again.

"I roll with it." She shrugged.

He gave a nod, pensive look overcoming his features as the troll tossed a glance up toward the next set of pipes they'd be required to scale. "Fair enough. Y'got anything y'wanna ask before we get started up again? Gives yeh a little more time t'rest."

"Why are you always talking about nothing?" It's clearly her main source of annoyance.

"Nothing's nothing, marm. Ev'ry little bit's a detail 'bout summat, an' th'whole of paradox space is made up of naught but accumulated details. But that's not a reason unto itself, so I s'pose I owe you a proper answer." He brought a hand up to trace the strange curl to his sideburn, scratching the side of his head afterward.

"Force of habit, I s'pose. Bloke goes crazy when left alone too long without anyone t'talk to, an' I've talked to m'self plenty of time t'fill in th'gaps 'tween conversation. Or mebbe it's summat along th'lines of jes' tryin' t'keep th' thinkpan active when gettin' bored. Another possibility is that silence scares th'excrement outta me, but that'n's jes' a tad less likely. Mebbe it's summat of a security blanket, th'constant jabberin'." Another sigh escaped the troll, but the fact that he was offering so many possibilities to why he tended to go ON and ON made it quite plain that several of them were likely false. "There's always th'chance that it could be t'drive y'bonkers, but I wouldn't count on that'n. Or mebbe I'm jes' a chatty drunk, an' never bother t'sober up."

...Oh, hey, he finally shut his mouth long enough for Melinda to get in a word or two.

Mel's response was an annoyed, level look - one might even call it a kubric stare - of annoyance. "I'm just going to assume you like the sound of your own voice enough that you never learned when to stop it." She said, totally deadpan.

A broad grin split his face as he returned to his usual jovial machinations. "Haha, y'might think that but I've spent may a night an' day in th' quiet contemplation some ascetics seem t'be predisposed to, marm. D'ya want th'truth as t'the whole of the matter or would'ja jes' like t'stick with yer observations?"

"The truth would be nice."

"Poking folks fer reactions," he said with a shrug. "Th' only way t'learn 'bout someone without goin' through their records an' personal effects is t'get words out of 'em. Can't do that without throwin' a few their way first. Learnin' what makes y'tick is summat of an interest of mine - even if'n I gotta annoy th'hell outta yeh t'do it in th'first place."

"Annoying the hell out of me makes me refuse to speak, if you hadn't noticed." She pointed out, one eyebrow raising.

"An' yet it's a response nonetheless. Figurin' out what agitates you is part of th'process. Mebbe eventually, I'd be able t'find a berserk button or summat along those lines," he countered, giving her an honest, level look in return.

She shrugged. "It makes it harder for you to get more information in the future though."

"Talkin' now, ain'tcha?" the drunkard retorted, though in a playful tone rather than sardonic.

She went back to glowering at him.

"Who knows, mebbe someday yeh'll even loosen up a little an' learn t'appreciate a bit of an opportunity t'gab? Fer now though I gotta focus on lettin' yer expressions do th'talkin', haha." He doffed his cap to punctuate his sentence, but then grabbed hold of the pipes. Apparently, he was done pressing Mel for information for the moment, and had figured that she'd had enough of a breather.

She stood carefully and waited for him to head up, shaking her head and letting out a put-upon sigh.

It was really no surprise that a troll who'd grown up in a tree would be an adept climber. The only odd part was that he somehow managed all this while far more drunk than most people attempted such acrobatics. As they ascended, the constant warm fog became thicker, starting to obscure them from one another in spite of a relatively small distance between them. This didn't really seem to bother Byross, though, who, once they finally ascended the last set of pipes, gave a triumphant laugh followed by a bemused whistle. The faint glow of the gate was finally visible, if only just. It almost could've been a theme, if Melinda were to compare it to the gates she'd built up to on LOQAT.

Melinda grumbled. She really wasn't particularly physical in the first place, and being tiny meant the distances ended up seeming far longer to her.

Without warning, Byross simply sat atop what solid ground there was amidst the nest of piping. The troll gestured for Melinda to sit somewhere nearby, though the motion could've just as easily been lost, considering the sauna-like fog surrounding them was hampering their vision. For once, he didn't use his words.

She managed to catch on and sat across from him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeh've earned a rest, marm," the troll declared quietly, closing his eyes while setting his hands in his lap. After a moment's consideration, he reached into his sylladex and removed one of the horns of mind honey, then placed the corked vessel between them. "Though it'd be a disservice t'the culture what made th'creature in front of you t'not poke fun at'cher difficulties with what we've experienced thus far. So consider some comment of that nature t'be jes' a matter of course, an' I'll skip wastin' breath on it."

He tapped the horn laying in the middle of the small stone outcropping. "Now, as I recall, ain't told'ja what 'xactly this stuff is. Though if'n yeh're savvy, I woulda figured yeh'd figure on mead anyway 'cause th'stuff's traditionally taken outta this kind of vessel. Mebbe not in th'colors y'see, but as a whole, that's how it's done," he explained, but placed his hand over the horn as if to keep Melinda from grabbing it right away.

"Now, there's this stuff what y'can get from apiculture techies called 'mind honey', an' while it's summat of an unpredictable thing, there's two things what it always accomplishes. Sharpens yer wits, an' amplifies whatever psychic whatsits y'might possess naturally. An' I'm not givin' you a bunch o'witchdoctor claptrap, this'n's th'genuine article, marm. But typically, it's unsafe t'take any of th'stuff on account o'potency."

"Now, I'ma tell you one thing an' 'spect you t'do the math on yer own, marm," Byross said slowly, pulling the monocle from its usual perch so as to give the woman a meaningful look. "Mead's an alcohol, like mosta what I keep in stock. But it's based on honey. So dun' drink this stuff unless ye're sure y'can handle it."

Melinda raised an eyebrow at him, listening to his explanation without interrupting. "In other words it both intoxicates and empowers at once?" She questioned quietly.

"Diluted, so's it's more tolerable," he said with a nod. "An', if'n ye're familiar with it, a fun way t'test fer psychic powers in th'first place. Get a bloke drunk enough on it an' they'll start doin' whatever latent stuff they've got purely on instinct, 'least fer a bit."

"I see..." She sighed a little. "And you want to see what I can do."

"I'm not gonna force anythin' on y'marm," Byross said, shaking his head. "I'm making summat of a peace offering. This, t'use at yer discretion. Ghosts followin' you dun' necessarily mean ye're psychic, might be summat else what's not linked to th'thinkpan, an' th'mind mead wouldn't make that any more'r less potent. But this is th'only stuff what I rainbow-spewingly-well ritualize th'consumption of, as summat of a superstition mixed with knowin' what it does on its own."

"I see..." She repeated, eyebrows rising nearly into her hairline. This was a dangerous offering but clearly something important to him. She tugged on her hair slightly, it's damp and starting to stick to her head, as she considered quietly.

The troll noted her hesitation, and a slight frown caused his features to droop. "I'm not sayin' y'gotta go fer it now. An' if'n ye're not psychic, y'jes' get a buzz what somehow coincides with better cognitive function. Granted, ain't had anyone what's not a troll try th'stuff, so no guarantees. But if'n y'don't want it, jes' let me know an' I'll keep my vices t'm'self. Zero pressure, marm."

She nodded slowly. "Alright, though I think prudence dictates moderation."

"At yer discretion, marm," he aid with a nod, sliding the horn the rest of the way toward her.

She took it carefully, then a deep breath. She's careful to treat it as reverantly as he does, then takes a cautious sip. It hits her stomach and power seems to flood her veins. She has to clutch tight at the horn to keep from dropping it, and abruptly there's a low hum. They wink out of existance for a moment, and then as the steam clears they're near the top of the incipisphere, with all of it spread below them. She gapes for a second.

"H-holy shit..."

Byross wasn't much better off. It was a good thing that his monocle had already been removed, else it would've popped out in a dramatic fashion just to punctuate the moment. "Ohgodspleasejes'letitbepsychicprojection." That line became something of a mantra for him - being in space with nothing nearby to hold on to but the human had certainly thrown him for a loop.

Not to mention that it was bringing back memories that the troll was quite certain he'd managed to drink away sweeps ago. The only difference was that, suddenly, things made a lot more sense than they had when he was a whopping two sweeps old.

And thus the fetal position was assumed as Byross tried to block out what was going on. It would've been the first time Melinda had seen him express anything akin to fear.

Melinda was tempted to start laughing, but decided it was best not to. "What the fuck just hap-*" They disappeared again, this time appearing in the Land of Flowers and Frogs. "*-pened."

"That..." Byross murmured once he finally felt terra firma beneath his posterior, "That was you, marm. An' now I'm... I'm gonna take a moment... t'catch my breath... an' pray that y'learn t'control whatever that is once y'figure out how t'make it happen in th'first place." He flopped out on the greenery, immediately recognizing the area as belonging to Melinda's world. Well, that'd require them to go through the same climbing that they'd done before just to meet up with Maia and Clerus, but for the time being he was just glad to be "safe."

Mel nodded slowly, then abruptly they're elsewhere - the opposite side of Glow and Festivities, since he mentioned Maia and Clerus. "Oh gods damnit-!" They're a good twenty feet above the ground again.

"Fer th'love of all that's good an' holy marm jes'... jes'..." He wriggled into a position to where he was sitting up - the only problem being that "up" was relative, and he had to look up to see Melinda. "'Kay, I've learned my rainbow-spewin' lesson, I'd love t'get off th' ride now!"

"I'm not doing this on purpose!" She protested, as they're abruptly transported to the heart of derse. It should just be a few more minutes before she has control of herself, at least.

The dark cityscape of Derse offered no further comfort to the marksman, as, let's face it, it was hardly a hospitable-looking place. What REALLY weirded Byross out, though, was that he could've sworn he caught a glimpse of himself... sleeping... through one of the windows. Wearing a garish purple outfit - something he'd never don willingly.

And so he decided that this was likely just a series of hallucinations brought on by the mind honey. That was the only logical conclusion, which made it far easier for him to cope with. Serenity returned to him, and he closed his eyes. "Jes' gotta wait fer it t'end, then," he remarked coolly, forcing deep breaths.

"Yeah okay." She agreed, shuddering. They appear on Skaia, due to her curiosity about it. "Oh dear gods what is this supposed to be?"

He cracked open an eye to observer the world around him, and wound up giving a thoughtful hum. "Well, marm, does it look familiar to yeh? 'Side from bein' th'first place what y'conjured up at random?"

"Is that what this is?" She questioned. Abruptly they return to their place just below the gate and she shudders, starting to slump forward from exhaustion.

Byross leans forward, holding a hand out to catch her if she should happen to wind up falling forward rather than just slouch. "Oh, gods, finally, ev'rything's back t'normal. So I'm jes' goin' t'guess that ye're able t'cause mass hallucinations'r summat."

She does collapse against him, just a bit tired. "That, did not seem like, a hallucination." She shuddered a bit.

If he'd been of a burlier make, Byross might've offered to carry her to the gate and eventual safety within Maia's house. As it was, he was still the troll of noodly physique, and felt no need to make such a suggestion. He would have to content himself with supporting the woman, which he did by scooting next to her and offering a shoulder to lean upon. "Well th'good ones rarely do, I'd venture t'say. Otherwise yeh'd be able t'ignore it right off th'bat."

"I've had some pretty spectacular hallucinations, I think I know what I'm talking about." She sat the horn down carefully and leaning hard on him. "Good grief."

"Do I even wanna know what y'got into what gave you th'hallucinations in th'first place?" the troll asked, tilting an eyebrow. He gently took the horn of mind mead, placing it back in his sylladex - it'd be best if Byross were to hang onto it for now rather than tempt a repeat of the same incident.

"I had a rather nasty fever when I was quite young, about four years old or so." She sighed. "Had another bout of the same thing the day I got my menses."

He nodded slowly. It was actually a little weird, having Mel lean on him and... was this close enough to confiding? in him. "Well now y'got me jes' a bit confused, mebbe th'terminology's alien, but ahh... what, pray tell, are menses?"

"Part of the fertility cycle." She said flatly. "Purging the womb of the tissue and blood meant to nurture feti."

"Hrm, well, can't say I've ever had t'go through with it, on account o'bein, well, male, as well as th' whole bein' an alien species what doesn't do th'whole fetus thing," Byross mused, but patted Mel's knee in a gesture that could've been interpreted as understanding. "But, ahh... is it normal fer you types t'do th'hallucination thing at that time?"

"No, no it is not." She patted his shoulder too.

He chuckled, nodding. "A'ight, fair enough. So yeh're jes' a touch weird, understandable. But hey, who isn't these nights? I could prolly list summat along th'lines of 'least one disorder per troll I know."

"Heh. Yeah." She leaned harder on him, closing her eyes. "That was exhausting, whatever it was."

"Hrm. Nap time here sound good then, marm?" he teased quietly, having to lean against her in turn to refrain from being knocked over. "Might be able t'grab summat comfy t'conk out on if'n that's yer aim. Hope y'dun' mind th'humidity."

"I don't think we have much choice, I don't think I'm going anywhere until I've had a ncie nap." She agreed, trying to sit up and only managing to sprawl herself in his lap. "Gods damnit."

Another chuckle escaped the troll. Well, he wouldn't complain about it this time. She was clearly too tired to be trying anything that would kick off the ol' paranoid dismay. At least he was used to sleeping without sopor slime anyway. A plush sweater found its way out of Byross's sylladex, and wound up serving as a pillow while the marksman made himself comfortable on the rock. A nearly identical one, but of a slightly different shade of green, wound up tossed over Melinda as a blanket. He'd do without.

"Good day an' all that syncopation," he said, yawning in sympathy to her predicament.

There again, her sprawling in his lap sort of helps. "Thanks." She drifts off quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clerus wrinkled his nose at the outfit. Gaudy and impractical were two words that came to mind, even if the latter was technically inaccurate. The second vest was, after all, suited for the carrying of tools, with all the usual extra pockets that the troll seemed to adore in his clothing. But it was the jewelry that really threw him off, as he'd never worn anything of that nature in his life. The alchemiter, however, seemed to think that now was ample opportunity to begin.

"Why arre we doing this, again?" he asked, tossing a glance Maia's direction. "What's wrrong with what I've been wearring?"

Maia put her hands on her hips and grinned. "Nothing's wrong with it, per se, but this looks very nice on you." Her eyebrows rose a little as she took him in, eating the eye candy.

Gray fingers sought out the buttons on the purple vest, idly fidgeting and fussing. "I've worrn the same general ensemble forr sweeps..." he muttered, shaking his head. "As farr as I'm concerrned, I looked fine in the olderr garrb." Clerus rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the fact that, rather than two sets of moderately heavy sleeves, he now only had one loose and light one, though it still mercifully went down to his wrist - the extra skin showing around his neck was maddening enough.

"If you'rre so keen on changing thrreads, therre's nothing stopping you frrom alchemizing something forr yourrself," he remarked sullenly. "You've alrready managed to make yourr little clock thing."

She smiled sweetly. "You look like a noble now." She pointed out. "Very handsome even. And really I can't pull that look off." Is she teasing him? Yes, she is. Though of course now she's challenged him.

And so he tossed a copy of the outfit, resized for someone of her stature and build, at Maia. Thank goodness most clothing was relatively cheap to create. "We could make it a uniforrm," he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. "Orr maybe I should come up with something forr YOU to put on."

She tried it on, and while it doesn't look bad, it doesn't suit her quite as well. "You could, I'd like to see what you can pull off." She smiled.

He sighed. "You'rre asking the colorrblind trroll with no underrstanding of aesthetics not involving anchorrs to make clothing forr you. Arre you surre that's a good idea?"

She grinned. "Not really, but it should certainly come out amusing."

He was reluctant at first, due to a lack of familiarity with the field. But ultimately, he wound up leaning on his familiarity with the outfits of his, err... "arrticulated figurrines" as he alchemized clothing for Maia. Green scarf? Oh yes. Long blue coat with white trim? As long as it was styled like a trench coat. And, by virtue of the standard outfit of a female when it comes to anything destined to become an action figure, a particularly clingy shirt. But, as Clerus was the one doing the designing of the outfit, the purple cloth didn't actually show any skin - it wound up just being a tight turtleneck.

It was apparent that his imagination had been wrung dry by the time he got to the bottom half, which wound up being simply a black pair of jeans and some dark red combat boots. "Therre. Done." The seadweller had apparently lost interest in the project, and offered the articles of clothing to Maia.

Maia raised an eyebrow at it, trying not to snicker at him, then fiddled around until she got it to match just a bit better - the boots simply get re-colored so as not to clash with the cool colors - and pulls it on, doing a little twirl to show off.

He couldn't resist the jab. "At least it prroperrly coverrs everrything," the seadweller declared.

She gave him a slight look. "Oh, you're funny. I haven't teased you about your new outfit, even though I think it'd look better sans shirt."

"I'm not taking off my glubbing shirrt," he growled in mild irritation, tugging at the collar of the cloth in question as if thinking about buttoning it up the rest of the way. "It'd be indecent."

"It'd look nice." Her eyebrows rose, challenging him to.

"I have standarrds," he shot back. Clerus already felt half-naked with thin sleeves, he wasn't going to make it worse by removing them entirely. "If you'rre so interrested in mucking about without clothing on, you can be the one to go shirrtless."

She grinned at him abruptly, eyes a bit too bright. "You asked for it buddy."

"W-wait, what? I wasn't being serrious!" he protested.

"Too late!" She enters the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later with a bikini top. She might not swim, but she does sunbathe. It's quite small.

And all he can do is avert his gaze, face flushed with that thistle-colored blood of his. "Forr the love of the Noble Cirrcle of Horrrrorrterrrrorrs, can't you just... gah, what's wrrong with you, woman?!"

She runs a hand through her hair, clearly preening. "Absolutely nothing is wrong with me, what's wrong with you? Ignoring someone's attempt to look nice."

He stole a glance. And promptly looked away again, even if she was vaguely covered. "You'rre just trrying to spite me," the glubgrub retorted, now going as far as covering his eyes with one hand while the other tucked across his chest and under the other arm. "Which I suppose I should've expected by now. Okay, you win, you can put yourr shirrt back on."

"This is actually perfectly comfortable with the coat  over it." She argued, grinning broadly. "Maybe I'll just keep it on."

"Arre you going to close the glubbing coat?" he asked, frowning severely.

"Mmm... nope." She's grinning fit to crack her face now.

"...You'rre shameless, arren't you?" he asked with a sigh, lowering his hand and meeting the bemused look on Maia's face with a borderline baleful

"Do I have something to be ashamed of?" She looks almost hurt at that, twirling her hair around a finger.

"Indecency! Exposurre! Exhibitionism! You'rre barring yourrself to the worrld without a carre!" Clerus informed her, tone downright incredulous. "It's imprroperr, rregarrdless of how... umm... well... forrmed cerrtain assets may be." His tirade faltered by the end, and he started blushing again.

She levels him with an absolutely perfect pout. "Oh yes, a world consisting of monsters I fight, consorts who couldn't care less if I ran through the land stark naked, a sprite who's talking about GRANDBABIES, and an alien." She pointed out. "Who doesn't seem to even appreciate the view." She lifts her chin, crossing her arms under said assets.

"I wouldn't say I'm unapprreciative so much as..." he paused for a moment, trying to find the proper word. "Well, gods damn it, parrdon my glubbing language, but it's needlessly distrracting and I'd rrather my thinkpan not be nestled betwixt pale mounds of flesh when I'm supposed to be dealing with the aforrementioned monsterrs!"

That, at least, seems to satisfy her - judging by the returning grin. "Re-he-heaaally now? Alright, I suppose I can put my shirt back on then. Though that really won't help the problem you know. Shirt's too tight to wear anything under."

"I'm going by the theorry that less exposed flesh is less distrracting," the troll informed her, countering her grin with a deepening frown of his own. "Why arre you even doing that, anyway? In case you've forrgotten, I'm not parrticularrly human." His tone hinted that he was mostly just making excuses for being dismissive toward her behavior. "Notice the grray skin, the teeth, and the horrns."

Clerus grumbled something unintelligible before turning back to the alchemiter, deciding to make another attempt at a weapon that wasn't a piece of junk. At least then he'd have something to think about other than the concept of physical compatibility. Getting his mind out of the gutter was of utmost importance!

She shrugged, watching him for a moment and smirking before finally going and changing back to the shirt he'd designed. She's clearly still far too amused though.

Some people might've questioned why he'd kept a corpse in his sylladex, even with the handy carrying case. While he questioned the effectiveness of the end product, he couldn't deny that mixing the fire lizard skeleton with his anchor was at least interesting to look at.

But then he glanced over toward Maia, and tilted an eyebrow. "...What's with the look?"

"Hm?" She tilted her head back, curious as to what he's talking about.

A frown appeared on his face, the troll displaying preemptive disapproval for whatever was going through her mind. "Some would venturre to call it an 'excrrememt-eating grrin,' if you'rre familiarr with the terrm. All you did was put yourr shirrt back on, therre's no rreason to be that amused by it."

"Yes there is." Her grin started to get even wider, she's getting more amused by the second it seems.

The frown turned into a full-blown scowl. "And what, prray tell, might that be?" Clerus growled, though he was being a little histrionic in comparison to his actual state of only mild irritation.

"My turn." She retorted, coming over to the alchemiter. Can't turn your back on her for a second, at least not since he reinforced the stairs.

"...What arre you doing?" he asked, immediately assuming she was planning on something else to put him out of sorts. While he'd worked on expanding his armory, that grin couldn't possibly have anything to do with just making a fancy weapon. Shenanigans were clearly afoot, and unlike Byross, Clerus wasn't the sort to be able to figure them out until the last moment.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it." She retorted, starting to fiddle with a rolled-up poster and one of her skirt outfits. The results are pretty spectacular. One's a green skirt-suit, which should be quite practical all on it's own, the second is a purple version of a certain evening dress everyone knows and adores.

And, of course, Clerus's color blindness slightly altered his general perceptions of the clothing, though some would venture to say that a nice blue is easier to find flattering than green. "You'rre going forrmal on me?" the troll mused. The dress was mostly just a pile of strangely-patterned cloth to him, considering that it'd have to be worn to provide proper context.

She practically giggled. "Eh, you're formal on me, figured why not." She shugged, picking up the dress. "Wanna see what it actually looks like?" Uh oh, that shit-eating grin's back.

"Doesn't seem parrticularrly prractical, unless I'm mistaken," he informed her dully, giving a slight eyeroll. "Now you'rre just playing drressup, arren't you?"

"Yes." She just about giggled. "Yes I am. Are you complaining? Because I can think up more for you."

He blinked, then gave her a questioning look as he furrowed his brow in concern. "...Morre for me to wearr, orr morre forr me to look at?"

"To wear, if you're getting bored of looking at."

"Definitely not asking forr morre outfits when two is morre than I need, but thanks," he retorted flatly, shaking his head.

"Then don't complain." She retorted sweetly, heading back into the bathroom. Well hey, she held off on doing it for nearly a week. He should be grateful for that at least.

What he was grateful for was the momentary respite, which gave him a moment to sigh in frustration. Why did she insist on goofing around when there were monsters to fight, worlds to save and subsequently destroy? She was treating it like a game, when clearly they had a grand destiny to fulfill! But with her gone, Clerus took one item from his sylladex that he had never shown Maia.

It was an old seagrift doll, which was modeled after Pupa Pan's nemesis. Clacktacular had brought it back to the hive when Clerus had been barely two sweeps, and while the troll would never admit to it, it was something that he cherished. He'd loved the stories, but had always felt that the seagrift should've won more often. Stupid little boy skylarks were just misbehaved peasantfolk trying to rise above their proper place in society! Or something like that.

And the doll could be used in tandem with the alchemiter to create the outfit. Such was the glory of unexplained sciences that were advanced enough to be indistinguishable from magic. But Clerus was also keen to make certain that the ensemble was tucked away safely in his sylladex before Maia emerged from the bathroom - he wasn't about to admit to having indulged in guilty pleasures by making a costume from a wiggler's story.

Maia actually takes her time, given the dress is very lovely, and like most very lovely dresses, a pain in the ass to get into. She's adored the Felt since she was in high school, and so had had various merchandise laying around - temptation was simply too much. A little bit of digging finds her some black silk opera gloves, and she takes a moment to wet her hair down a little so it's less poofy. She finally emerges, walking carefully so she doesn't trip herself up on it.

Being the sort who notices those sorts of things, the fact that Maia had to be careful as she moved was registered in Clerus's thinkpan. Clearly, the human hadn't even bothered to worry about practicality when designing that outfit. But there was also that expanse of flesh now being boldly broadcast to the world - or at least the one witness that wasn't an imp staring through a window. Or a sprite. He blinked, then scratched just under his horn as he tried to come up with a statement appropriate to the situation.

"How well does it brreathe?" It's hard. It's hard being a socially awkward glubgrub, and nobody understands.

"Pretty well actually. It's more comfortable than it looks." She smiled a little, turning to let him see how much of her back it shows. "What do you think?"

"...I, uhh... I think that's a lot of shoulderrblade," he said bluntly, feeling a little idiotic when the words came out.

She giggled a little, turning towards him again.

"What? It's a valid thought!" the troll protested, folding his arms and giving the human a harrumph of irritation. His gills twitched slightly to emphasize his mood.

"Uh huh. Suuuuure."

He gave another harrumph, this one with a more indignant tone, before turning back to the devices. If she was going to taunt him, she was going to have to do better than that! "Have you decided if we should wait forr ourr comrrades, orr prress on? I haven't hearrd from Byrross in a few hourrs, he's prrobably sleeping." Yes, change the subject, Clerus. Surely she'll simply go along with it rather than press the matter.

She came over, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Hmm. I think we should wait, wouldn't want to leave them running amok would we...?" She leans against him lightly, but enough that he can feel how thin the dress is and how well it hugs her body.

And thus Clerus learned the true meaning of wardrobe-related regret, namely regarding just how thin his sleeves were. Apparently, the comment about being an alien species hadn't been enough to dissuade the woman!

That or she was having just a bit too much fun messing with him, Maia herself wasn't even sure at this point.

He blushed furiously, deciding to run through mental excersizes to keep his mind otherwise occupied. Running inventory on his sylladex would be a good one! He started running through the lists attributed to the colors, some of which were naturally muddled by his tritanopia. "Well, that depends upon how good Melinda is at rrunning amok. Byrross is prrobably in his element, rregarrdless of what's going on."

"Melinda's pretty good about not ruining my floors like someone I know." Her arms settled around the one she had pressed to comfortably and she sighed a little, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

The arm unfettered by human presence brought a palm skyward to cover Clerus's face. "Fluthlu grrant me patience," the troll murmured, barely audible. Taking a deep breath, the seagrift allowed his hand to return to his side. "That's not a 'she can handle herrself' so much as it is just asserrting that she can be clean," he pointed out.

She managed not to giggle. "Mmhmm, point still stands."

He fixed her with a flat stare. "If you rreelly want me to make a mess, I'll drop my glubbing anchorr on the deck, and then we'll see what's a glubbing catastrrophe."

She returned the glare. "Don't you even dare or I will walk around in my sunbathing suit."

"I can close my eyes," he countered, "And as yourr serrverr, I'm the only one who can rrepairr yourr floorrs as well. Don't tempt me to put you in a box until yourr frriend shows up." Her glare was met with one of his broad, toothy grins.

"I sleep in a box, remember? That doesn't bother me!" Is she blushing? Yep, her face is quickly turning pink.

Her... embarassment? Discomfort? Whatever it was, Clerus took note of it, and was quick to press the advantage. "I could always have you trrussed up instead. The prrimarry differrence is that you'd be able to see what's going on arround you, but without having the opporrtunity to interract with it. I'm actually quite good with rropes." A laugh escaped the glubgrub, tone borderline menacing.

"So you'd leave me for the imps?" Her face darkened to red, and there's a subtle shift to her posture, something he can feel but it's not immediately apparent what it is... Well, it might be to Byross, were he awake to watch.

"Oh, I'd stay arround, to keep an eye on you," he remarked diffidently, shrugging. The grin faded to a smirk as he tilted an eyebrow at Maia. "It'd be unconscionable to do otherrwise. But it might go leagues in teaching you prroperr behaviorr."

Her entire face was the color of a tomato at that and all she can manage to stutter, and only barely manages to make the stuttering sound properly outraged. "Y-y-you wouldn't DARE!"

"Darre?" Laughter erupted from Clerus's chitinous windhole, and he tossed back his head in mirth. "Darre? Ohhh, you arre indeed a funny little crreaturre." He leveled his gaze at her once more, flashing the rows of sharp teeth as his lips split in another grin. "Not only... is my place in society cemented in the upperrmost echelons, giving me the rright - not only that, but therre isn't a doubt in my mind that you wouldn't be able to stop me if I decided to act on that whim."

She's glaring and blushing now, and her hands move to her hips. "We aren't even from the same type of society, let alone the same one, you don't have any right to!" She argued, abrutply wishing she wasn't wearing the restrictive and daring dress. He's right, at least as long as she's wearing this she can't really put up any fight at all.

The look faded to a smirk once more, and the troll chuckled. "You rrile too easily, I think," he mused aloud, reaching over to pat the top of her head. "But that was funny. We should do that again sometime."

She looks ready to breathe fire now, he can almost see the steam coming out of her ears. "Ass!" She spins on a heel, stomping back towards the bathroom. Did he actually piss her off?

Clerus stifled a second chuckle. All throughout his series of threats, she hadn't tried to assert she could measure up. Not a single promise of retalation, only protests to the potential treatment. Byross would've been proud, though the aristocrat simply viewed it as asserting that Maia was refusing to consider real hostilities with the glubgrub in spite of mocking aggression.

She slammed the bathroom door loudly, enough to make things rattle. He was about a sharp as an egg, wasn't he? He can hear her ranting loudly, and then the shower starts going.

The loud ranting only gave cause for the seadweller's smirk to broaden. However, with Maia busily cooling off by taking a shower, this left Clerus with ample time to snoop. It wouldn't do to try to deliberately agitate her, as then he might actually deal with that brush wielded with feminine anger. Instead, he wandered into her kitchen, perusing the various edibles on hand. This wound up with him sampling various unfamiliar things - Flour? Blech. Dried noodles? Bland, but passable. Vinegar? ...Not that bad, actually. He wound up drinking it straight from the bottle.

Maia's in the shower an unusually long time for her, though the water covers any untoward noises that might have been made.

After a while, Clerus finally made his way over to the bathroom to make certain the human hasn't slipped and injured herself. In his hand was a half-finished bag of almonds that he was snacking on absentmindedly. "Maia? You still in therre?"

"GO! AWAY!" She yelled, a loud thump following the exclamation.

He couldn't help but laugh. "Gods, fine. Good to know you'rre alive, at least," he shouted in return, but only to make himself audible over the flow of the water. If the woman was going to take her time...

Yes. He would go visit her room. Maybe even peek inside that box she slept in. He hummed a jaunty tune as he clomped up the stairs.

Maia's a bit too... Shall we say indisposed, typist number one? I think we shall... to bother wondering what exactly he's up to.

Naturally, the lack of interruption only gave Clerus more opportunity to pry. He had to go through two sets of doors (part of the fortifications he'd added) in order to arrive in the woman's room. This is where a certain typist would wait for additional description so as to aid in the decision-making processes that would determine what the troll would go pick up first.

Really there's a lot of interesting things! There are lots of plushies, some paper, of course her computer is hidden within her box-bed, there are crystal thingies - gifts from Melinda of course - and of course all the junk she doesn't feel like carrying in her sylladex!

The plushies were, oddly enough, the first things that caught Clerus's eye. It was primarily an issue of curiosity regarding what sort of creatures the human enjoyed the pretend company of - surely if she'd disliked them, she would've gotten rid of them sweeps ago. He was, as always, careful to avoid destroying the poor things, as he'd broken enough lately that doing any more damage would wind up with him considering taking a break from staying in the human's abode and simply going on to the next world.

The first one is a huge bear, easily the size of a small child. It's blonde and quite soft and squishy. Then there are a couple bunnies roughly the same size, a pillow with a doll pattern on it - it's shaped to the doll, even! - and a few other random ones. The doll-pillow one, though, is almost too delicate to be handled, there's stitches where the human's had to repair it.

The huge bear was the one that seemed to hold the troll's interest, and he picked it up to more thoroughly examine it. No, he wasn't expecting to find a hidden cache of gems, or even contraband, inside the item. He was just curious regarding the craftsmanship. Ultimately, though, he decided that maybe, just maybe, a nap was in order - and the closest available place for such an activity happened to be the box Maia had been so proud of.

It wasn't really all that daunting to the seagrift. After all, a recuperacoon was actually rather similar. Just a little more messy, and without the nonsensical fluff of bedding. It was that last detail that threw Clerus off. He'd been perfectly content to sleep on hard surfaces throughout the adventure thus far, and this was... weird. Never you mind that his gills kept jabbing at the pillows. Or how awkward it was with that much sleeping space, the recuperacoon he'd had on the submarine having been considerably smaller.

...Yeah, we're not really sure what he was trying to accomplish, either. Clerus should've known going into the situation that it wasn't going to be comfortable. But he DID close the door to the box bed after entering.

Inside is Maya's computer - which glows cheerfully with a screensaver involving the felt and midnight crew as chibis running around - and her collection of EROTIC LITERATURE AND GRAPHIC NOVELS. Oh dear.

Oh... Well. Clerus blinked at the screen. Rather than... indulge in potential curiosity (he may have been alone, but he would still know that he had betrayed his noble sensibilities!), the troll turned the monitor to face a different direction. Yes, that was clearly the best solution. That way, he wouldn't be tempted in the least. A nod of satisfaction was delivered to a nonexistent audience.

Maia's bed is quite comfortable to a human, though luckily not a waterbed, considering how many times she's woken up to imp attacks. It's still quite soft though, with fluffy blankets and... Were those her sleep clothes? Yes they were.

The reflected illumination from the screen saver was enough to make the aforementioned garb visible to Clerus, who quirked an eyebrow and inspected it. Why was she storing clothing inside her sleeping area? That was just weird.

The water abruptly shuts off, finally, though she seems to be lagging.

The troll sighed. Clearly, Maia would not appreciate coming across him trying to sleep in her bed. He crawled out, flinging the stuffed bear and the sleeping clothing back in after successfully extricating himself from the box. And promptly headed down the stairs after closing the bed back up. None would be the wiser - it was the perfect crime.

The jug of vinegar reappeared from Clerus's sylladex, and as he started walking down the stairs, he began drinking it. Damn, that stuff was good.

"What the shit are you drinking?" Maia was wrapped in her robe and slippers again. "And what were you doing upstairs?"

"Bottle says 'rred wine vinegarr,' and I was just making a sweep forr imps, making surre that therre werren't any strragglerrs," he said with a shrug before taking another pull on the bottle. "Afterr all, I only have yourr safety in mind."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then raised an eyebrow. "Why are you drinking vinegar?" She shook her head. "Wait, no, don't answer that. Judging by your reaction to sugar."

He blinked at her. "It's delicious, though." The troll tilted a questioning brow. Why else would they keep it in large bottles like this? "Why, what's it norrmally forr?"

"It's used in small amounts to add flavor to food."

"Good by itself," he said with a shrug, finishing his descent. Perhaps the couch would have to suffice this time around, as far as sleeping was concerned. With that in mind, he immediately went to the mentioned piece of furniture. "So, humorr me forr a moment. Did you design those slipperrs yourrself as well?"

"I've had them since I was 15." She retorted, crossing her arms. "They were a christmas gift."

"And they still fit afterr... arround five sweeps?" he mused aloud, raising his brow. A thoughtful hmm followed his question. "You must've grrown earrly and stopped abrruptly."

She rolled her eyes. "Basic human growth and development there buddy. Girls are usually finished growing at sixteen or so, guys don't finish up until around eightteen."

He tapped a horn, grinning at her. "You'll have to forrgive my ignorrance. Afterr all, I'm not rreelly familiarr with the life cycle of alien crreaturres."

"So female trolls don't develop faster?"

The bemused disposition was dropped, and Clerus readjusted his goggles. "I'm not a biology experrt, and I've had prrecious little face to face interraction with otherr trrolls overr the last fourr sweeps."

"Point." She shrugged.

"Even Saziil rrarrely botherred to meet with me, and she was the one it was most feasible to do so with..." the troll sighed, laying down on the couch. He kicked off his boots, wriggling against the cushions to get into a more comfortable position. "Isolation kills perrspective."

She leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow. "Sleepy?"

"I've had prrecious little rrest, keeping an eye on you," he pointed out, though there wasn't any teasing in his voice, just a simple assertion of facts. "But I've neverr slept well anyway, especially afterr starrting to live in the submarrine. Harrd to get soporr when you'rre constantly on the move."

"Aah." She comes closer, sitting carefully on the end of the couch since all she's wearing is the robe and slippers. She smells sort of... odd?

If odd was the word for it, then perhaps the troll might've noticed that it wasn't another one of those godsbedamned girly smells that permeated the bottles littering Maia's bathroom. A glance was tossed the human's direction as Clerus pulled off his goggles, setting them on the back of the couch. "I could go on about how harrd the last five orr so sweeps have been, but it's an old storry and complaining doesn't change the past. Strrife builds charracterr, anyway."

It's pretty noticably not one of said girly smells, which are actually absent from Maia as she had been using the shower to calm herself, rather than because she needed one. "Yeah okay. But you're kinda protection-less here."

A vague chuckle escaped him, and he closed his eyes, rubbing his eyelids with forefinger and thumb. "I'm a light sleeperr. I've had to be. Again, back to the sleeping prroblems, but mix that with being the only technician on duty on a sub, and having to warrd off potential thrreats at a moment's notice."

She nodded slowly. "Fair enough."

"What about you? Will you be fine if I'm sleeping?" the troll asked, quirking an eyebrow even though he wasn't actively looking at her.

"Mm, probably. Just gotta remember to barricade the doors."

He wrinkled his nose. The odor emanating from the human was bewildering. Unfamiliar. Distracting, because it wasn't one he was used to being related to Maia. Clerus shook his head, trying not to dwell on it. Maybe she'd tried on a scent that was radically different just because of how agitated she'd been?

"With a little luck, maybe Byrross orr Melinda will show up durring the day to keep an eye on things?" the seagrift mused.

"Can always hope." She agreed, standing carefully. "I'll... let you sleep then."

And thus curiosity put the cat in danger. Or, in this case, the fish. "...You smell differrent."

Maia's face immediately turned bright pink. "I, uhm, uh. How the shit is your nose that good."

He opened an eye to give the somewhat fuzzy image of Maia a blank stare. "I'm a glubbing fish, so to speak. You tell me."

Her face is easily red enough for him to see, and she just continues to stutter at him.

He blinked at her, ending with both eyes open, and he forced himself into a sitting position to consider her properly, though Clerus refrained from putting on his goggles just yet. "That's not an explanation. Why is this botherring you?"

Yep, she's still not getting a coherent sentence out.

"Is this anotherr disgusting human biology thing that I don't rreelly want to hearr the details of?" the troll asked with a sigh, rubbing his temples before grabbing his goggles and pulling them back on.

"Eeeeerm..."

He readjusted the eyewear so that he could see her properly. His tone dropped the midly exasperated aspects, and simply became terse. "Out with it."

She hugs herself uncomfortably, if her face was any redder she'd get a nosebleed.

A long, level stare. Arms folded across his chest. A frown that turned from thoughtful to slightly annoyed. And then Clerus gestured toward the empty space next to him on the couch. "Sit."

Maia sat reluctantly, wincing a bit and quickly re-adjusting herself.

"Deep brreaths," the troll instructed, closing his eyes and bowing his head slightly. "Even. Measurred. Forrce yourr body to rrelax. Let yourr facial muscles returrn to a neutrral state. Yourr limbs dangle. Calm. Yourrself."

She considered attempting a snarky remark but sighs and does as she's instructed, slowly forcing herself to relax.

He opened an eye and turned his head just enough to get a good look at the woman's face as he asked the next question. "Prroperrly rrelaxed and trranquil?"

"Yeah sure okay." Closer to her, the smell is much stronger, and clearly not an artificial scent; though it's still feminine, it's a more primal, feminine scent.

And then it struck him what the smell likely was, causing a grin to play over his features even as he began to blush. "I suppose you'll tell me when you'rre up forr it. Just don't stay up all day playing arround on yourr computerr instead of sleeping."

"Oh NOW who's got the shit-eating grin?" She retorted, frowning at him.

"No need to take out yourr frrustrrations on me," he chided, forcing the grin to subside for a moment in spite of the urge to allow it to broaden even further.

Her entire face floods with red again and she splutters. Whoops, she caught the inuendo that time!

"Do we need to calm you down again?" mused the troll aloud, still somehow maintaining a straight face.

"You are doing that on purpose!" She growled, glaring at him.

He fixed her with a level gaze, features drooping into a severe frown. "What am I doing on purrpose?" he retorted. "I grrin forr a moment and you decide to lose yourr temperr."

"You are throwing double entendres about like they're going out of style!!"

"As farr as I know, I've only used one. And while that clearrly yanked yourr line, that was harrdly worrth the rresponse you'rre giving me rright now," Clerus declared with a mildly exasperated sigh. "So if therre was hidden meaning beyond that, trrust me when I say it was a lucky cast."

"I am going to bed." She grumbled, standing quickly. Of course, ten year old slippers don't have the best grip on wooden floors, so it's rather obvious that she's going to fall flat on her face.

An annoyed sigh accompanied the lurching forward of the troll. Though catching her would be downright impossible in his position, he made a grab for her wrist with the intent of pulling her back onto the couch, so that at least she wouldn't spill on the hard surface.

She landed with an oof and immediate cursing at him, her slippers, the floor, and generally everything. Evidently her time in the shower wasn't quite enough.

"You'rre going to hurrt yourrself if you don't calm down," Clerus informed her in a dry tone. He shook his head to express a measure of disdain for her behavior, though at least he avoided clicking his tongue for emphasis. "If you can't make it up the stairrs without injurry, you'rre welcome to share yourr couch with me."

"DAMNIT Clarie!!" She huffs and tries to pull her hand back, clearly annoyed, still.

"Swearr at me all you want, I'm being perrfectly honest," he informed her, punctuating the sentence with a grunt as he let go. "I doubt you'd be fond of the flavorr of humiliation that involves falling down a stairrcase."

"I'd be sleeping on top of you." She pointed out, eyes narrow. "And I kick in my sleep."

"Suit yourrself," he said diffidently, shrugging as he pulled his goggles off once more. "Though I think you'd be saferr walking barrefoot than wearring those slipperrs, at the verry least."

She continued frowning at him, severely tempted now. What could it hurt, really?

He wasn't certain what to make of her hesitance, but ultimately shrugged and shifted so that he was laying on his side, knees dangling off of the couch so as to give Maia room to attempt to make herself comfortable. Naturally, the courtesy would only be afforded her so long as she didn't stand and start heading upstairs.

"Ugh, fine." She finally grumbled, taking her glasses off and curling up, though she has to be rather careful due to her lack of clothing.

Sleeping in uncomfortable positions was old hat for the troll, though the fact of the matter was that having a nearby warm body made the process difficult due to not being used to the presence of living creatures when trying to relax. He wound up regretting the offer, truth be told - he'd likely lost any real chances at getting any sleep.

Maia's not much of one to sleep in uncomfortable positions either, and the light starts bothering her pretty quickly. She starts grumbling under her breath after a few minutes.