caughtinanetwork | 1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

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1 ♐ Voice ♐ A brief check up

[Wow, Darkleer is actually communicating with the network on a whole for once instead of being a miserable hermit. Must be a special occasion. Does anyone know his wiggling day?]

Now then. Have we all cleansed ourselves of the mess and done whatever strange death rituals foreign species feel the need to do?

[Okay, maybe it is just Darkleer being a coldhearted dick. Eh.]

I believe we should focus on the more important matter here. I have seen discussions scattered throughout the network, but it would be best to have all our thoughts and speculations focused in one place on both the destruction of those so-called faeries and on the recent appearance of that Carol individual.

For those of you who are oblivious and prone to missing the obvious, things are changing in this place. It would be best to be prepared.

[Don't be fooled, he's not doing this to be nice. He's doing what any troll knows to do: looking out for himself and the few he cares about. If that means even faintly working with others, well, he'll learn to deal.]

[Also, that's all the network is getting from him. Click goes the camera!]

[Filtered to Summoner]

[Darkleer hesitates before sending this one out, although his voice is just as stoic and stern as ever.]

Since your children in particular seem to be taking this badly, perhaps it would benefit you to know that those things which followed us were nothing more than mere robots. The technology may have been organic in nature, but it was still nothing truly living. No pain, no loss of life.

That's all.

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Strange.

[As he gets himself up to the treehouse on his own, Darkleer meets the look Summoner gives him straight on, even if it is hard to tell.]

Your method of dealing with them doesn't appear to actually be solving them.

[His expression becomes hard, staring at Darkleer for a moment before turning to head to the kitchen.]

There is no 'solving' them. There is merely dealing with, with their existence. And here it's... it's harder to do that. [His gaze gets a bit distant, sighing as he speaks again.]

Being useless in this quiet place makes it so much harder.

...I know.

[Carefully, he moves to follow him and stops a very short distance away. A better troll could say something, he thinks. A better troll would have an idea of what do to that would ease everything that troubles the Cavalreaper. But he isn't a better troll.]

[If he was, things would certainly be different, wouldn't they?]

The way you're dealing with them is going to hurt you in the long run if this is what you're going to do each time.

[He turns, eyes staying low before finally dragging them up to stare at Darkleer, face for the most part emotionless, but with that same confusing sorrow that has yet to leave him for a while now.]

[He wants to ask again, ask why is even matters that how he's 'dealing' is going to hurt him, ask why because here it shouldn't matter to anyone. He wants to ask if it's for the children's sake or if...]

[Even if Summoner asked, Darkleer isn't sure if he would be able to answer truthfully, or even answer at all.]

[So he just meets that stare, his expression tired but mostly neutral. He nods his head towards the kitchen.]

Show me what you have.

[Summoner doubts he'd get a truthful answer either.]

[The bull troll snorts, shrugging a shoulder as he moves further into the kitchen.]

Mostly preserved good but I keep fresh produce as well as a range of things that can be found in this forest. [He's trying to focus now, kill the stutter. The sooner he gets his face back the sooner Darkleer leaves, right? Right.]

[Nope but nice try.]

[Darkleer follows after and looks over the area before nodding to himself.]

Very well then. Go sit down. This shouldn't take too long.

[And out comes the hair tie again... And then off starts to come the armor? Of course; it would be distasteful to make a meal in a kitchen while still wearing his battlewear. Beneath the light, sturdy armor, there's nothing more than a very light shirt, defining his build in a different way than his armor. Putting it away into his sylladex, he begins to go through the kitchen, mind already whirring.]

I'm going to assume you don't have an apron?

...Sit- sit down?

Uh.

[He might be dejected and off, but, it's still Summoner, and once the armor starts coming off he's just kind of staring, eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed.]

Uh. A-Apron? No. Why ...why would I have an apron?

[Still staring. Yes, mentally agreeing to himself that he likes Darkleer's hair like that. He's reminded of the few times Mindfang used to wear her hair up and it's about the same feeling, but well, on an entirely different sort of person.]

[And haha... no...no armor. He's still pretty built without it, holy hell.]

[He should probably say something perverted right now to ease the tension he's feeling, but he's at a kind of uh... loss for words at the moment.]

[Considering the stuttering Summoner has been doing every since they've been together today, Darkleer doesn't notice any particular change. At least, not one noticeable enough for him to stop fiddling about in the kitchen.]

I assumed as much. And yes, sit down. There's no need for you to be standing when I'm making you food.

[Very patiently, he begins his work. Something with mushrooms, he thinks...]

Uh...

[He sits down where he's standing, cross legged on he floor.]

[Stare.]

[Darkleer doesn't notice. There's cooking to be done!]

[Well, putting together food, at any rate, into something combined. No cooking for right now. He's focused on that, all until it occurs to him perhaps he should ask if there's anything in particular the Cavalreaper cares for.]

[So he turns around after a few minutes... and pauses.]

[His ears flick. The tips turn just a bit blue.]

...What is it?

--What? [Snaps to attention, still sitting.]

...You were staring.

Uh, were.

I were, as in, um, was. Wait, am I not staring now?

It was a different kind of stare.

[Says the king of staring.]

[... Heh.]

What kind was it?

...We are not going down this path of conversation.

[Another ear twitch.]

What path of conversation?

The inevitable one, apparently.

[All the ear twitching as he sighs.]

Just tell me that you weren't staring at certain lower portions of my body so that I can rest easy tonight.

Since when was the aim ever you getting an 'easy rest'?

Ah, of course.

[This is still a bit awkward, but the back and forth nature of the conversation is familiar, and Darkleer finds himself turning back.]

It is your goal in life to utterly tarnish the ears of any poor fool who stays in your company for too long, and I have the utter masochistic nature as to keep indulging you.

I already figured you for a masochist, Tink... [Grin.]

[With some of the things hinted, and what was told to him about a 'collar', he already made that assumption.]

[Also this conversation is making it easier to not focus on more serious and depressing things, so, all right then.]

[...Gah.]

I do not have the slightest inkling what you could be going on about now.

[But wow, that sure is a lot of blue going up to his ears and the back of his neck. Darkleer's voice at least remains calm- BECAUSE HE DOESN'T STUTTER LIKE SOME PEOPLE- and he seems to be taking a bit more interest than is really necessary in what he's doing.]

[A huh, like he can't tell, Darkleer, give him some credit.]

[And stutter, what stutter, no one here has a stutter.]

[He smiles, lips thin, wings sliding out behind him as he leans forward, still leaning forward.]

You don't? Hmm, well I suppose you aren't the one that filled me in. [A shrug.] A little birdy told me.

[...]

[Just.]

[Stunned silence.]

[Oh god.]

[Is his mouth hanging open? Whoops. Give him a minute, Summoner. Just.. going to raise a hand to his face and... cover it...]

I am going to erase that bird from existence.

[It's said very muffled.]

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;

Action;