012414-Shit-Happened

 CGT RIGHT NOW opened memo on board LIBBYSULTRASEKKRIT.

 CSO: Meouet hears a soft knock on the door to her rooms.

 CTC: Meouet glances toward the door from the soft spot on the floor she is sitting on. She's not entirely sure if the knock was something she imagined... but her attention is on the door now.

 CSO: The knock comes again, a bit more insistent. The familiar voice of Erzedbet, one of the carapacian servants, calls out. "Young Lady, the Oracle would like to see you in the library."

 CTC: "Just a moment!" she clumsily gets up from her spot, leaving a few small vials and random papers in her wake. She slips on her shoes hastily, folding the heel in on one... and shuffles out of her room to greet Erzedbet with a sheepish smile.

 CSO: Erzedbet smiles affectionately, leading Meouet to the Elevator. "It appears she's decided you need to meet the boys. I should warn you, she's very protective of the asshole, so don't try anything funny."

 CTC: Meouet straightens her expression to something more neutral. "Noted." she folds her arms to remind herself to stay on guard.

 CSO: Erzedbet opens the elevator, and points to a large button with an "L" enscribed on it. "I will straighten things up down here while you go up. Try and have a good time?"

 CTC: "An attempt will be made. Thank you." She steps into the elevator and presses the button. She leans up against the side of the elevator to fix her shoe... with some difficulty, but sighs, satisfied, when the heel is fixed.

 CSO: Meanwhile, upstairs, Libby has insisted the two of you join her for lunch. She's put out a variety of twink food and drink, and attempted some troll victuals, though they are not prepared as well as one could hope.

 CCT: Balish glares daggers are Ryspor.

 CCT: Like usual.

 CSO: She taps her foot impatiently, the calf curled up on her lap. "So, Ryspor, how are you feeling after surgery?"

 CCT: "Yeah SEAPEASANT, are you still COHERENT? Or is that TOO MUCH to hope for?" His frown tightens, and he drums his fingers on the table, the impatient tapping echoing around the room.

 CSO: Ryspor has apparently fallen asleep in his chair. The painkillers must be taking effect.

 CSO: The elevator pings softly, and the doors open.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Meouet, you see before you a large, well-stocked library, with gently curving bookcases hiding the true dimensions of the room. In the center is a coffee table laden with food, and numerous couches and chairs around it. On the couch sits the Oracle, whom you recognize, with a golden calf on her lap. Beside her sits a purple-blood, probably the subjugglator you've heard of. Across from them, in an arm chai

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> a violet-blooded seapeasant, groggily awakening from a nap. Please describe yourselves.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish, the shockingly tall troll, stands just over six foot with his horns tickling the underside of seven feet in height, the orange, yellow, and red protrusions spinning upward in a lazy c-shape. Long limbs spiral out from his muscled frame, clearly displaced by the awkward lack of a shirt. His hair is rather unruly, almost a trademark of the caste. A few teeth poke out from his upper lip, accenting the

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> scowl plastered on his face.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> -- CURRENT taciturnContagion [CTC] clasps her hands behind her back and approaches the collection of beings before her. --

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor iʃ abovt 5'7", a fairly average height, yet ʃtill manageʃ to ʃeem lanky deʃpite thiʃ. Hiʃ ʃhort hair ʃtickʃ ovt in lazy cvrlʃ, with a ʃmall ponytail cvrling behind hiʃ long, thin face. Hiʃ eyeʃ are jvʃt barely tinted pvrple, and there iʃ a ʃingle fang ʃticking ovt of hiʃ movth. He iʃ wearing a pinʃtripe ʃvit with a pvrple vnderʃhirt, and haʃ cvriovʃly ʃmall earfinʃ, which fvltter ʃlowly aʃ he yawnʃ and ʃtretcheʃ, before blearily focvʃing on the newcomer.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet approaches the group, barely over 5 feet in height, straight-faced and a bit wide in the hips. Her horns are short as well, curving just slightly in. The right horn appears to have a decent sliver of it missing. Her hair is loosely braided from the sides and collected in an olive colored bow at the back of her head, the rest falling freely to wherever movement and wind takes it. Her shoulder

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> by a delicately knit olive shawl, her dark gray shirt underneath proudly displaying a symbol that looks much like a T with a dot underneath. An olive skirt and knee-high boots complete the appearance. She stops with a decent distance between herself and the sofa, nodding to the Oracle and the two new trolls.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish rises to his full height. "GREETINGS, fellow Troll. I am Balish Aggaro, may I ASK you to IDENTIFY yourself?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby smiles warmly. "Meouet, darling. This is my matesprit, Balish." She nods affectionately to the one who stood. "And this is my moirail, Ryspor." The oracle grins and scratches the golden calf's head. "And this is my little sweetling, Mooregard."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish glances at Libby. "Mooregard? A little HARD to call OUT in a pinch, but I'm not ONE to argue."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor lookʃ over at the little calf, delighted at the new name. "Mooregard! That'ʃ a wonderfvl name!" Hiʃ fingerʃ ʃeem to be abʃentmindedly tapping and tracing ovt an odd rhythm aʃ he ʃpeakʃ. He qvickly tvrnʃ hiʃ attention back to the newcomer, blvʃhing ʃheepiʃhly. "Aha, terribly ʃorry. I believe yovr name waʃ Meovet?" He extendʃ a friendly hand. "I'm Ryʃpor, rather obviovʃly, haha."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "Thank you. It is as she says, I am Meouet. It's good to meet you Balish... Rhyspor... and of course Mooregard." She responds as she moves to catch Ryspor's hand for a shake.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish nods, taking a seat. "I have NOT YET met you, MAY I ask your buisness here?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet is shaking Ryspor's hand firmly, though looks up to Balish, then to Libby, then to Balish again.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby smiles. "That's what we're here to talk about. Meouet here is your Seer, beloved."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: He frowns, turning to Libby. "I BELIEVE we HAD a seer. One of... RAGE, was it?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"Oh, that may have been Pellok. I don't know mvch abovt him, ʃave that he went miʃʃing a while ago."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "Pellok apparently was just performing an entrance, Meouet was the actual player. I left Pellok in as bait, since Jack has a habit of hunting seers." She gestures to the empty chair. "Sit down, eat something."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish grimaces, and simply nods.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "Yes. Thank you." She sits promptly and looks around at the food laid out on the coffee table. This one... no, thi- She eventually just closes her eyes to grab something and bring it to her mouth.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby reaches up and threads her fingers between Balish's. "Sit down, love. No need to be so formal."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"Indeed. I promiʃe none of vʃ bite...mvch, haha." He grinʃ and pickʃ a teacake off of the platter.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: He glances down, and retakes his seat. "FORMALITY has little PLACE now a days, I like USING it when I am able." He says with a little wave, squeezing Libby's fingers. He glances at Ryspor, "You DO know Rilset BITE my SHOULDER already. Took a HUGE CHUNK off, blood EVERYWHERE."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor lookʃ a little qveaʃy, and ʃlowʃ down on the teacake.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "so..."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby smiles. "As we approach the next cycle of lands, I want you to reenter the fray.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet looks a little concerned, but nods.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "I am expecting these two to take care of you, though primarily Ryspor, as you'll be on his team to start."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor qviverʃ in anticipation at the chance to be a MENTOR. He grinʃ again. "Indeed, if yov have any qveʃtionʃ at all, merely aʃk, and I ʃhall help aʃ beʃt I can!"~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "BETTER idea, WHEN the seapeasant FAILS you, contact ME."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "oh... yes. I'll be sure to ask." She shifts in her seat and reaches for another thing to eat...

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor rollʃ hiʃ eyeʃ at Baliʃh.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "How should I contact you outside of here?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby takes a weird orange and pink vegetable off of a tray and nibbles it. "Oh, Ryspor will be on your team, you'll spend a lot of time together."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "Ah, CONTACT information is a GOOD IDEA as WELL.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"Well, I'm cvrrently ʃeparated from the main grovp, bvt yov can vʃvally find me on Trollian. My handle iʃ gregariovʃTrovbadovr."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "YOU can give her EVERY other one, then, THROUGH trollian."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "greg-... hm..." Her hand reaches for a notepad.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"Ahaha, well, I'll certainly give her all the handleʃ I know..."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "Don't

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "Don't." Libby glares. "We want to keep her OFF of Jack's radar as long as possible."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: He nods. "WELL, you SHOULD meet EVERYONE ELSE when we are ALL together in the astrolobe, SO everyone ELSE can introduce themselves at THAT later date."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "I specifically want her kept away from Nullar."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish cocks an eyebrow. "I SUPPOSE I can TRY that, but she IS nosy."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"I'll do my beʃt to keep her in the dark aʃ well."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "It SHOULDN'T be HARD." Balish adds with a sigh, glancing down. "She can EASILY be distracted if I can make her MAD enough."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby nods. "A few other things too." Libby rubs Mooregard behind the ears. "I will be sending the calf with you, Meouet. You are responsible for returning it to me. But I want him to go learn of the world, and what he is being protected from." She looks pointedly at Ryspor.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor nodʃ. "I will try my beʃt to plead yovr caʃe to the team."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "∴I wọṙṙy ṭhạṭ sọmėṭhịng ṭėṙṙịḃlė wọulḍ hạppėn ṭọ Mọọṙėgạṙḍ, ḃuṭ I ṙėspėcṭ yọuṙ wịsh."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "You are the Seer of Rage, and Mooregard is a subject of much emotion for the team you will be on. It will help you to hone your skills to see their reactions to him, and hone your power to keep him from harm."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby looks pointedly at Ryspor. "You will assist her."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish glares again at Ryspor, sending waves of intimidation the Violetblood's direction. They've talking about this.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor ʃmileʃ nervovʃly at Baliʃh.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet watches them both interact... making mental note.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: A dark chuckle can be heard and a sprite appears from behind one of the bookcases.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CAA: • "Whαt's this, Sυbjυgglαtσr Aggαrσ? Hαving αn σrgγ withσυt mε?" •

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish blinks standing. "OUT. You are NOT PERMITTED to BE HERE."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby looks to the sprite, then to Balish. "What on earth is this?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CAA: • "Θh, I'm sυrε γσυ'δ lσvε tσ sεε mε kσwtσw tσ γσυr σrδεrs, wσυlδn't γσυ." •

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish growls. "A MISTAKE." He glances at the others, doing a quick bow. "I MUST take my LEAVE and DEAL with this... ANNOYANCE. I'll be BACK in a MOMENT."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby tenses, and the calf looks up at her. "Balish who is this woman?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor lookʃ worriedly at Libby, ready to intervene if neceʃʃary.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CAA: • ξrnαhspritε winks αt Libbγ. "Thε Sυbjυgglαtσr's mαtεsprit." Shε gigglεs αnδ flσαts bαςk συt σf thε rσσm. •

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "You haven't MET? Here I THOUGHT she was HAUNTING your BASEMENT. Libby, that's Reenha, the PEST whose heart I TORE OUT an age ago."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet twists her lips into a frown.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "And why is she HERE, Balish?" Libby glances at Ryspor before returning her gaze to Balish.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: "Because it looks like you prototyped your ex-girlfriend."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "I have NO IDEA how she FOLLOWED me here, but YES, in an ATTEMPT to learn how SOMEONE controls... THAT, I wish to SPEAK with another Purpleblood, and SHE is what I had ON HAND."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet chooses to attempt to diffuse the situation subtly with her powers.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: TC, you will have to determine the method. But as you are a seer, you can detect an intense amount of passion between balish and libby, which is tinged with insecurity on libby's end. A small amount of affection exists between balish and ryspor, and a moderate amount of anger between balish and ryspor.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor ʃvbtly ʃtepʃ a bit cloʃer to Libby, jvʃt in caʃe.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: Meouet briefly ponders whether suggesting to disassemble the sprite would be useful to anyone. She also contemplates pushing Ryspor to take care of the issue in order to have Balish be unable to complain about it, leaving him to console and talk it out with Libby.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "... Ryspor... would you mind coming with me to chase after that thing? I believe those two have some chatting to do..."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: She looks to Libby and Balish

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor lookʃ very very nervovʃ abovt the proʃpect of leaving Libby alone. "Will yov be all right, Libby?" he finally aʃkʃ.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish glances at the Oliveblood. "Don't BOTHER, she's GONE, or at least HIDDEN somewhere waiting to HAUNT me at another time."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "Do you really want that hanging over your head? Another appearance like that? Suit yourself..." she throws her arms up in 'defeat'.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby stands, a scowl on her face. "Well, this has been most productive. I think I'm going to go be in my laboratory." She turns with a huff heading off towards her bedroom.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor glareʃ at Baliʃh briefly, before hvrrying after Libby, yelling for her to wait vp.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: He grimaces, flinching a bit, and covering his eyes. "PERHAPS you are right, but I don't THINK she'll STICK around." He gives a sigh, rubbing his temples and muttering about bad ideas, settling back down.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Ryspor, Libby slams her bedroom door in your face, yelling through it. "Tell that asshole he can come talk to me himself, not send my moirail to pacify me while he flirts with his ex."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "If you deal with it, I promise you'll feel better in the long-run. It'll keep eating at you from the back of your mind if you let it continue like this though."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"Libby, I came on my own accord, becavʃe I'm worried abovt yov! Pleaʃe, let'ʃ talk abovt thiʃ!"~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby opens her bedroom door, glaring at Ryspor. "There is nothing to talk about at the moment."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "Or WHAT, I gave it FORM, a FACE, so I can WORK AGAINST that demon rather than LETTING the acid SEEP." He pauses, glancing at her. "You SEE rage, do you NOT? You should KNOW how I feel about all this."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "Or this keeps happening. I don't know /why/ you're angry, but it's a reactive emotion. You're feeling it because of something else you can't come to terms with."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CTC: "So, what. are you ignoring Sadness? Jealousy? Disgust?"

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor lookʃ abovt to proteʃt, bvt decideʃ againʃt it. "All right, I ʃvppoʃe I can't force yov. I really do want to help, thovgh." He tvrnʃ to go back to Meovet and Baliʃh. "Come and talk to me whenever yov feel ready."~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "HATE." He says, while standing. "You'll SEE a LOT more of that, VERY VERY soon, you KNOW my caste."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CSO: Libby nods. "I will. I'll send for you soon. But I want my matesprit to tell me why he thought it was a good idea first."

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~"I'll talk to him, reʃt aʃʃvred." He waveʃ and ʃmileʃ encovragingly, before ʃetting back off to rejoin the otherʃ.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: Balish turns, sighing. "NOTHING seems to be WORKING out. You were RIGHT, I guess..." His eyes seem distant, and he walks over to the door, giving Ryspor a glance as he walks past.

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CGT: ~Ryʃpor ʃtopʃ him. "Yov need to explain yovr actionʃ to Libby, aʃ ʃoon aʃ poʃʃible." He then ʃendʃ him on hiʃ way once more.~

<p style="margin-top:0px;margin-bottom:0px;"> CCT: "You DO NOT say, Ryspor? Any MORE obvious ASSUMPTIONS?" He lets out a gah, glancing over his shoulder. "I don't NEED to explain MYSELF to you, and SHE will LEARN to OBEY me, worry you NOT." He turns back, mumbling under his breath as he approaches the door, "ONE way or ANOTHER."