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She's got the baby and she's on her way to the hallucination set and then there's a thing. It eats three orcs. - Not eats. It... puts, three orcs, through its face. There aren't bulges in its body, no chewing no blood no pain even when she can still read someone's mind in the last moment before their head is gone -
Yeah her plan probably wasn't gonna work anyway she steps into the snake portal.
The baby is an orc, and my parents were Elves, and I'm in between. There's only one orf right now and that's me.
"...okay. Were you trying to go somewhere in particular and just landed in my castle by accident, or...?"
I wanted to be not where I was, and I had a plan but it was pretty stupid, and then this thingy showed up and ate people but it didn't seem to be swallowing them or hurting them, so I let it eat me. I am pretty pleased with the results it is so pretty here!
- aw. He likes her being pleased. She does a good being pleased.
"You probably could've landed in safer places but I'm not sure you could've managed a prettier one, not on this planet anyway. I'm glad you like it."
It's so pretty! Nothing is pretty where I'm from except, like, my art, and I had to argue with the tattoo guy a lot to get him to do pretty things. Anyway it's not safe there either.
Art! She manages to pull off her shirt without having to put down the baby. She shows off the circles of various sizes cascading down her shoulder, big ones up high and little ones farther down. She turns and tosses the longer bits of her hacked-uneven hair so he can see the wheat-topped whip marks.
That's some pretty good art. That might be the best art he has in fact ever seen. Wow. Art.
"I like your art."
I have lots! She takes off the rest of her outfit too. She is a little flirty about it but not in a way that makes it seem like nudity is inherently flirtatious. Scrollwork on her hip swirling around wickedly deep puncture marks! Flowers that might be covering a previously very broken ankle! Abstract swirl up her leg incorporating a nasty but oddly neat burn!
Nudity sure is inherently flirtatious in this probably-not-a-Maia's home culture.
"Impressive." And really fucking hot. "How'd you end up with all those?"
Whenever something happened to me that seemed like it was gonna stick around I went to my tattoo guy and got him to pretty it up!
Gosh. Well, one time I got in a Balrog's way, Balrogs're a kind of Maia that looks like this, terrifying fuckoff fire monster image, and being in one's way is a real bad plan and it grabbed me round the leg with its fire whip thing and flung me down four flights of stairs, that's where the leg one came from. It shined hot for weeks before I could let my tattoo guy color it in and put in neighbor stripes. The ankle one was one of the times the baby's daddy was working me over real bad, he liked to try to make me say stuff I didn't wanna say, I barely remember a thing about it I spaced out so bad, I fixed most of it with magic but my ankle I could just barely make bend right again, there were bone splinters everywhere, so tattoo guy turned 'em into stamens and did petals... I've never seen a real flower, just telepathy about 'em.
He thinks of the prettiest flower he can remember seeing, an indigo-edged white one whose name he forgets if he ever knew it, and he tugs on his conjuration spell and the flower materializes in his hand. He gives it to her. There isn't really a clear reason behind the impulse, except that it seems like it might make her happy and she does such a good happy.
Oh it's so pretty oh wow it's real - She smells it and stares at it delightedly and then tucks it into one of the shrimpy braids the longer bits of her hair allow.
Well that was every bit as delightful as he expected. He beams at her.
"You're lovely," he says. "You should get to have flowers."
A gentle rain of rose petals, silver like her hair, materializes in the air around them and swirls on a magically directed breeze. Doing unstructured magic to make the air move just so is a rush - picking a bit of power out of the vast torrent available to him and spinning it up so it does exactly the thing he wants and nothing else, balancing the wild chaotic magic with an effortless ease so well-practiced he barely thinks about it.
Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww she is so precious can he keep her. He thinks he would like to keep her. He thinks he would like to keep her for much longer than he keeps his swans, and much more nicely. She does such a good happiness.
In Angband you have to earn having a name and most people haven't especially not me.
If you need to talk about somebody a lot you nickname them or call them by their job or something. Like there's my baby and my tattoo guy and the blacksmith and Weird-Ear. My siblings call me, like, 'slut' and 'flowers' and 'prettybutt' and 'braids' and 'inky' and 'tunes' and stuff.
"It'll be weird if I don't have anything to call you... 'Rima'," he suggests. 'Art' in his native Ansati instead of the Nathuremi he's been speaking. Switching languages makes it feel more like a name to him without it really being any different from 'prettybutt' on a conceptual level. It feels to him like it should be up to her whether to keep the nickname thing going or pick up a proper name now that she is out of that increasingly awful-sounding place.
(It has sort of half occurred to him that she is probably reading his mind what with the thing where she's carrying on a perfectly coherent conversation while pretty obviously not knowing the language and also talking exclusively in his head. He hasn't actually paused to contemplate the idea head-on, or think through the implications, but insofar as he has thought about it he doesn't especially object.)
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