Friggin Hell’s bells Reggie Shellcracker. What the hell did you do to this den? Crap on a cracker my friend. Ugh, I don’t even know how to start repairing this. I guess I can just start cleaning up for now. I gather all the salvaged materials, and still usable supplies, and send them to my hyperdimensional haversack. I can use a surviving barrel lid as a telekinetic scoop, and that third of a barrel over there as a kind of dust bin. Actually, forget the lid, my telekinetic force squares are better at aligning perfectly with the ground, or any surface, if I want them to be perpendicular. They make perfect brooms, oddly enough.
Okay, whew, that went quicker than I thought, now I just have one big jumbled piled mess to go take down to the forges and use as fuel. I don’t quite understand what volunteer Draconiacs did with the chimney structure in our cavern at the base of Mount Solace, but whatever they did, I’m grateful we don’t have an endless cloud of smoke building up.
Doot doot doot, here I am, zooming around on my telekinetic surfboard, hauling a ton of scrap crap down the tunnels of Mount Solace. I am pretty sure I never pictured myself acting as some kind of super powered janitor inside a mountain that makes up a dragon’s domain, but here I am. Not that I have any problem with it, I just find it funny. Most of the Draconiacs around here do their parts, some don’t seem to take on any tasks, but honestly, just living and enjoying life is part enough in my book. It’s a really social experience, seeing that any time a job needs doing, a bunch of volunteers take up the task. If Lady Kinzul calls a meeting, and declares a feast, quite a few Draconiacs and kobolds will just get up to start rolling out food, which is mostly minerals, supplemented with a bit of meat. I guess it helps that they don’t really need to worry about food prep, or waste all that much. Anyway, when those Draconiacs have helped serve the others, they take their turns either serving each other, or others will take up the new task of volunteering to make sure they can enjoy the feast too.
I suppose it helps that there really isn’t a lot to do other than chat, play strategy games, or run errands or perform tasks. Or, well, seek romance, I guess. That seems to be a pretty big thing around here. Like I was thinking about the other evening, there’s a static charge hanging in the air of unspoken tension, worry now that things are truly under way. Tomorrow, we begin the first offensive, based on the furthest date of any portent that Aims had ever left for the Order. From what I’ve gathered, we’ll have the element of surprise as Astridus and Olashax just finish mustering their forces, to prepare to march out from their domain. They’re the two most powerful that are in a cluster closest to populated lands. They’ll have four allied dragons of middling power, with a large ground army.
Just knowing the numbers we’re up against, and how few of our forces we’re taking to take them on with is a bit nerve-wracking. Just ten beings, up against all that. Now, we’re all powerhouses to be sure, and we’ve got some tricks on our side that they can’t have prepared for, because we didn’t even get them until yesterday, and hopefully some more we might find today. My point is, whoops hi there fella, sorry, almost ran into you, then almost hit you with a big ball of telekinetic trash. I flash an apologetic face towards the Draconiac man wandering this section of the halls. A lot of the regions that I mostly traverse are the least populated ones. I know that Kinzul has an entire region of tunnels and caverns that lead to the foothills, that house the thousands of kobolds and Draconiacs under her care. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, my point is, even if we are powerhouses, if one crack in our armor is exposed, if we lose sight of one of our vulnerabilities, and our foes manage to exploit it, it could be our undoing.
Me? I’m more vulnerable than most. I’m squishy. I’m distractable. I’m someone that suffers traumatic panic attacks. I require internalized lightning to even move my body. I’m technically on another doomsday countdown clock *again*, because my dragonforce is almost spent. Two days. Two days for a whole freakin’ dragonforce to go up in smoke. Basically anyway. Not just any either, an archmage, an elder dragon. I understand that it’s because I was trying to abuse my Honoris Causa to help with the Can’Z’aasian preparations, and then my wrathsplosion, but still—. Two days. It was bad enough when I was doomed to barely last the season, and Kozzurth had a weaker dragonforce! I’ve got some left, maybe enough for a week or two, maybe a month if the affection really does help keep it stabilized a bit. I’m still worried that I might be leaching dragonforce from others.
I’m also worried that I might be the reason that Bud isn’t recovering, or waking up. I need to get him back to the Hidden at the Heart of the Wilds, the Fae’s Wilds. One more project for a tomorrow’s Reggie. You hear that tomorrow’s Reggie? You’ve got more crap to do, so get to it. I snort a laugh at my own stupidity. My power could actually let tomorrow’s Reggie answer me, if we had full access to our Can’Z’aasian magic, but we don’t. I wonder how much I’d smart off at my past, um, current self, for something like that? Is it weird to not know the answer?
Iylynila catches up with me telepathically, nervously mumbling privately, “I um, just got done telling mother about the ‘Event’,—“
I gulp as my eyes flash wide and I nearly crash off of my telekinetic surfboard. My heart hammers in my chest as I hurriedly interrupt to ask, “Just now? As in the first time you’ve spoken to her about it?”
Iylynila responds, “What do you mean the first time? Yes, I was going to say, she teased that she should take you down there and ‘accidentally’ bump into the orb with you to see what happened. I got so flustered. She has such a mean streak for teasing. I suppose that’s where I get it from. Schis— Reggie? Are you okay? Are you upset that I told her?”
I don’t let my nervous, hysterical laughter into my private wavelength with Illy. Kinzul played me. She totally pulled a, “I know you did xyz,” “How’d you know?” “You just told me.” Our Lady has a playful streak? A mean teasing streak? The mirth from Lady Kinzul’s private wavelength is all the answer I need.
Quickly, before Illy thinks I’m upset with her, I answer privately, “Not upset at all, no, not at all. I’m alright. I’m just hauling the refuse, or whatever you call this kind of semi-atomized mess of trash, down the halls towards Mount Verdimenn. Are *you* okay though?”
Telepathically, Illy grumbles, “Yeah, yeah. I backed myself into a corner and was like, I’m not going into this with any expectations of steady monogamy mother, they have their top priority romances already. Then she was like, then you won’t mind if I do just that then. And, wow, the devious grin. I knew she was playing, but I couldn’t help it. I almost bolted to try to hide my mortified, blood-red embarrassment. You’re an ass. You know that, right? Getting me smitten right before setting up a psychic link with my mother. For shame Schism.”
I’m struck with a whirlwind of emotions as Illy essentially plays back her private conversation with Lady Kinzul. It also strikes me that Kinzul planned this, to get Illy to share this with me, with the implications that she might follow through on the vague “threat” of seeking out the orb together. She knew that some small part of me would latch onto the implications and run with it, and enjoy the idea of there being a chance. Is the headgame a way she’s trying to help distract me from my other emotional issues and neurodivergencies? If so, it’s a strange gambit, to be sure.
Regardless, before I can even come to terms with Illy angrily calling me an ass, just as I’m realizing she’s teasing, she adds, “Do I have to come all the way down to Verdimenn to see your munchkin gremlin little ass? Because I’m pretty sure you were throwing down hints pretty hard that you wanted to see mine,” taking the tease further, in more dulcet tones Illy queries, “or did I get it wrong, and it was Mother’s?”
The sneak! The flirt! Goes and sets my heart racing a mile a minute with the story, now I’m not even sure if it really happened, just to hit me with that one! How dare—! I’m not even mad. I chuckle before telepathically responding, “What I may or may not be interested in seeing, I’m sure I could divulge to you in person, but it doesn’t sound like *I’m* the one fixated on asses right now, now does it?”
I cut myself short from saying, “You even thought about your own mother’s,” because I’m pretty sure that would be taking it a bit too far, and end the tease, grinding our conversation to a halt. Illy rolls with the punches, and flirts, “Oh? Am I that wrong? Is it some other asset that you’re assessing? Perhaps about your favorite assassin? Maybe you’re trying to determine the best, beautiful bust?”
Snrk. I can’t help snorting my laughter in meatspace, getting a few curious glances from the Draconiacs down here near the resource piles. I’m probably going to regret this, but I telepathically quip back, “Oh come now, don’t tell me you’re envious of Errissa? Surely she’s got supple scales, but you needn’t disparage yourself.”
I can’t help continuing my laughter. I can very much tell that I threw her off her game by comparing her to the woman with the smallest bust amongst all of the little romantic entanglements she thinks she’s got me pinned for. I’m pretty sure she was going to try to hit the Farzee button next, or maybe her mother as a button, but now she’s worried that I don’t like those assets at all, and hers are by no means tiny, or even all that small. Hell’s bells she’s fun to mess with, and just talk to. She’s so witty, and compassionate, and observant, and intelligent. I mean, she’s also utterly ravishing, stunning beyond belief, a younger, slightly smaller mirror duplicate of the picture of perfection that is Lady Kinzul.
I wonder if that’s the whammy talking. I second guess everything now because of that thing. Uh oh, I can sense Illy changing tack, here it comes. Her tones are incredibly suggestive, in a sliding humorous pitch as she explains, “Oh? So scales are your thing eh? Well buddy, have I got news for you,” she lets out a very suggestive wink across our telepathic wavelength.
I can’t help it any longer, I topple off of my telekinetic surfboard, barely managing to catch myself in my own telekinetic grip before bouncing too hard on the ground as I burst out laughing. I cough, trying to ignore the sudden attention that’s on me, as I direct the trash towards one of the furnaces. It’s all plant fibers and wood anyway. It shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Also, I think the dragons eat the ash, or use it as seasoning to sprinkle on their mineral meals. Dragons like Illy, as she was suggesting that I’d find her dragon form more attractive.
Biting back on my laughter, I pretend to misread her suggestion as I respond into our wavelength, “Oh my, so suggestive. I suppose you are right, your mother’s dragon form would indeed have the most scales amongst the ladies of the Order that I’m enamored with.”
I can virtually *feel* the fluster as Illy tries to catch her bearings to find a direction to tease me from that one that she’s comfortable following. I can sense her thinking the word, “ass” about me over and over, not in the suggestive sense. I have to lean up against a wall with one hand from laughing too hard as I try to catch my breath. I must look absolutely psychotic to these poor people. She knows the easiest route to go would be to dig into the implication that I fancy her mother, but she’s already gone as far as she was willing on that particular teasing track by telling me about their conversation.
Illy tries to swing our private telepathic conversation back towards a tease she’s more comfortable with, comparing herself, “Really now, fixated on Mother again are we? If I’m not mistaken, when we first even met you were comparing how identical the two of us are.”
Letting her off the hook a little, I swing with Illy back towards herself, “Right you are, right you are, a fine form indeed. Perfectly picturesque, marvelously magestic, stupendously statuesque, down to a tee. You certainly have good taste to copy her form.”
Oof, that last bit might have been swinging a bit too hard, I can feel her fluster about copying, and I can sense her getting defensive. Thankfully, Illy latches on to the other details, privately responding, “So you admit, you do find my form stupendous, marvelous, perfect even. I think I might be flattered.”
Knowing that I’ve got work to do, and that I can’t really function as I’m doubled over, gasping for breath from laughter, I guess I’m going to have to cut this off at some point. Instead of finding an angle to tease her, I admit to Illy, “Yep, absolutely, one hundred percent and truly. You are without a doubt, all of the adjectives I used.” I pause and prevent myself from adding, “Just like your mother.”
Illy flubs and queries, “Erm, okay. What’s the angle? There’s no wind in those sails bub.”
Sending love her way and warm, caring smiles, I answer simply, “There is none. I just thought you should know one tiny fraction of an aspect of how I feel about you. Your brilliance, wittiness, humor, compassion, intelligence, and observational skills all fascinate me with you. Like I’ve told you. I love you Dummy. I’ll admit, I was enjoying our witty verbal sparring, but in meatspace, I was doubled over laughing, and I look like a freakin’ loon to all these Draconiacs. Did you want to meet up while I try to get things prepared for tomorrow, or nah?”
Heart fluttering becomes grumpiness across Illy’s private telepathic wavelength as she answers, “I, of, of course I do, you ass. I said I did. Need me to admit it? Yes, fine, I want to see you. Cocky little gremlin, crimson smurf. Really, really want to. Badly. Okay? Maybe at least a few minutes in private Schi--Reggie?”
I really, really shouldn’t do this, but instead of responding directly, I send a wink telepathically while I blow Illy a kiss within our wavelength. The heart flutter combined with absolute fluster that I get as a sense across her wavelength is ridiculously potent. I feel kinda like a jerk. Thankfully, she knows where to find me to come slap me for my cheekiness. Not that I want to be slapped, but I probably deserve it.
Reaching out towards Lucky, Luni, and Teuila, since Lil seems to be hanging back up near the top with Veril, I check in about whether they’d found anything more to protect Luni and Lucky.
Whew, thankfully, the answer is yes, as Luni responds, “I found a little hand-shield thing, it’s like a strap and the top or back of a gauntlet without the fingers. It’s got a snake emblem on it, and I got a feeling from it. We tested it out with Te, and it conjures like, a big serpent mana construct around me, and around Lucky too if I’m riding him. It can absorb at least one really really big hit, maybe some smaller hits if it didn’t take that one. It can only be used once a day though, and I’m not sure how long it lasts, or if it moves with me or anything. Te smashed it in one go, obvee.”
I try not to snort a laugh while responding, “Snrk, yeah, obvee. Was she wearing her new goldforce gauntlets?”
Teuila is chipper while responding in the affirmative, but Luni is a bit more reserved as she answers, “Um, yes. We sort of made a mess, or well, a crater. Thankfully we did it away from anything important.”
I grumble telepathically, “At least your crater wasn’t anywhere important. That’s good at least. Yeah, before you ask, I cratered too in the den. I had a wrathsplosion really bad Lu. It used up most of what’s left of my dragonforce. No one got hurt because I had just enough sense to beg them all to flee.”
Teuila is gasping, “Oh no, Air, my Airhead, no,” while Lu is similarly sadly muttering, “Oh sweetie. My poor Hero. Not again. My poor Reggie. My Air.”
Even Lucky seems a little upset in my mindscape, after hearing the news. I make sure to love on him and roughhouse with him for a while, trying to catch up for lost time, with affection. While I’m playing with Lucky in our idyllic shared mindscape, I fill in my beloved gals about everyone I’d met, leaving some key details out that are secret. I also let them know about the Damnations, and how they’re my ultimate target in the current portion of the war for Rayileklia. It takes some doing by Luni to keep me from succumbing to rage as I talk about them. I share how they were the force that helped kill someone very important in the dragonkin community long ago, and may well be behind a racist sub faction of dragons and dragonkin, that are out to slay metallic dragonkin of any kind.
Luni doesn’t even need my explanation to put two and two together about Aims and Dmitriv, since she knew them. Teuila catches on before I go into depth as well, since I’d been talking about their desire to single out, and kill metallics, around the time I was talking about the interrogation popping back up.
I make sure that I don’t say too much about Prinrin, other than that I really like her, and that Illy was right, she’s fun. Personally, I’m pretty sure Illy was alluding to the dirt that Farzee has on her, rather than the fact that Prinrin is just downright a whirlwind of fun and sweetness. I might let slip too many clues about one or two relationships between people that I don’t know if they’re out or not, or they seem to not want people to know, but my inner circle knows not to out people.
As I’m about to warn my inner circle about Farzee, while I’m plodding slowly around meatspace to go join them, I don’t exactly pay attention to the exact features of all the Draconiacs and human-form dragons around me that are bustling about. I do mark one headed straight for me, but I figure it’s probably Illy. That is, until a moment after a lovely hand lands on my shoulder, that is most definitely not Illy’s, nor Errissa’s, nor any of the other friends I’d made.
Farzee leaning over so that when I look towards her hand, I get an eyeful of cleavage, in a singsong sultry voice, greets me, “Heeyyy Schism.”
I fight the urge to eyeroll. I’d be flattered, I really would, if I hadn’t already convinced myself of how she truly was, before even overhearing her internal monologue. She is hellaciously good at leaning into her charms, and leveraging her figure, her voice, her accent, pretty much everything about her. I’m just honestly not interested. I can see a work of art, and not want to take it home with me, as it were. Even if the work of art is ridiculously over the top sexy without being heinous, or disproportionate.
A hooded, cloaked form seems to be a bit upset. Illy’s jaw is hanging low as she stands staring towards me from a few feet away. She and my inner circle heard my inner monologue, since I don’t keep my barriers up for them. I only put them up with Illy in brief spots during conversations so that she can’t catch wind of my teases before I say them.
I’ll try to play it cool as I greet her in return, “Hey Farzee! Good, glad you’re here. Textiles could use some sorting, or if you want to try your hand at crafting, the craftworks is over there, it could probably also use some organizing. I by no means intend to assume in a misogynistic manner, if you like the heavier labor, lumber goes to that warren, where that chain of Draconiacs is going, volunteers will show you how to set them up. Metals go into those two. Gems go in that one. Experimental stuff goes to that warren over there.”
The jaw drop on Farzee is almost in sync with the smirk that forms on Illy’s face as Farzee asks, “Wha’?” but before I can respond, she adds, “You’re serious. I’m here, offering all this,” she takes her hand from my shoulder to gesture down her body, directing my gaze along her heavenly proportions, before continuing, “an’ you wan’ me to wha’? Jus’ go work? No foolin’ aroun’?”
Trying to keep calm, and not admit that my heart skipped a little while she was directing my gaze, I nod and chipperly chirp, “Yep! Oh hey look it’s Illy too! Glad you’re here Illy, dunno if you heard, but we’ve got textiles that need sorting in that room, craftworks could use it too, or you could just use the resources there to craft stuff if you want to try your hand at things. Don’t even worry if things come out poorly, you can still sell them to the shop, generally breaking even at the bare minimum, usually netting a profit. Or if you prefer the heavier labor, lumber goes with that crew, like they’re doing, metals over in those, gems over there, experimentals in those warrens. You get it, you’re smart. Oh hey, they call you the brains of the group don’t they? Maybe you’d like to try your hand checking out our library instead, try to find more spells for me to learn?”
The fact that I ignore Farzee for the entire spiel, at least with my eyes, has her jaw agape. She actually looks wounded, but I worry that that could just be a ploy for if I turn around, to try to play on my sympathy. I do admit, gunning for my sympathy is one way to get me good. I desire to comfort her now all of a sudden, and my mind drifts to thoughts of taking her somewhere alone to do that, and the events that might follow acting on said desire. A series of events that cannot be allowed to come to pass.
Farzee telepathically sends to me in private, “Wha’ happene’ to all yours?”
A bit evilly, I answer telepathically, directly, though not exactly privately, “It’s a turn of phrase meaning you have my attention for the moment. Specifically undivided attention. You did, and, well, do, but I can’t afford to keep it undivided for long. You understand. Preparing for war and all. Breaking the laws of reality. I am truly happy to see you though, you and your wonderfully lovely human form, which is probably far stronger than it looks I assume, and it looks quite durable. Which is one of the many reasons I don’t want to assume that you’d shy away from heavier labor. I won’t try to demand which tasks you set yourself to, I want people to enjoy their time, and not feel obligated. Heck, you can just people-watch if that’s all you’re interested in. These volunteers are all *amazing* aren’t they? Why, their selflessness is undaunted, as they work on projects that some of them have no idea the ramifications of.”
While she’s still stunned, I give Farzee a tight hug, desperately trying not to enjoy her form as I do so. I then kiss her lightly on the cheek, giving her a goodbye peck, making it clear that I’m walking away. I turn away from her and wave politely at her while flashing a warm smile at her. With any luck, she’ll either be daunted by the task of trying to figure out how to find time to worm her way into my heart, or she’ll pick up on the hints that selflessness is something I’m seeking. Maybe if she tries it for a while, it might come naturally to her, or might grow on her. I’m not holding my breath, but I don’t think she’s evil by any means. I truly hope she enjoys hanging out down here. It’s just not going to be with me and my inner circle. Nor with me and Illy, and especially not with me in private.
With my heart racing a mile a minute, I hope that I didn’t insult Farzee by not remembering to offer the library option to her. I’d better add it, just in case. I send telepathically to Farzee, “Oh, and of course I delight in your keen mind, we could use that in the library too if you prefer books to labor! I forget that one, because I don’t offer it to everyone, only people that I trust around tomes that might contain, well, dangers. I’m sure you can fend for yourself if a book explodes in your face though, or a kraken pops out, or any of the other ungodly weird things we’ve had happen.”
I’m fibbing only a little bit. I’ve had books pop out of krakens, or explosions, but not the other way around, not yet at least. I don’t actually trust her with our library, not yet. If she secreted away tomes with spells, and held them over my head, it could be disastrous. I might cave in to her demands to have access to some spells, depending on what they were, and she probably wouldn’t know which spells she was withholding from me, so it’d be a gamble for both of us. I shiver and shudder at the thought of her having powerful leverage over me that could possibly have the possibility to save lives in the upcoming battles. I would cave and let my personal feelings slide to the back burner.
Illy privately coughs for attention telepathically before she whistles a low note of appreciation across our wavelength. She comments, “Helllll that was smooth Reggie. At first I kinda thought she had you with how you were staring down her shirt with her arm on your shoulder, and then you were eyeing her up and down at her command. I’ve never, ever seen Farzee lay it on so thick. Not with Induul, not with me, and believe me, she layed it on thick with me, not with anyone. Um. Thanks for showing restraint? I guess? It’s really none of my business. I know that your whole little group is all open and stuff. If you were holding back for my sake, I, uh. I know I don’t own you or your time. If that makes sense. I mean, half of what I like is just knowing who’s doing what with who, and I could probably guess every time you and Farzee, y’know.”
Nodding mostly to myself, reminding myself that Illy really is titillated by keeping track of other people’s romances, especially dramatic flashes of romantic entanglements, I continue walking into the stacks of our library, flicking my eyebrows for Illy to follow. When we finally have a modicum of privacy, I wrap her in a tight hug and kiss her softly on the lips.
Before her imagination runs too far away with her, as her heart starts racing, I mention into Iylynila’s mind, “We’re okay. I don’t trust myself to not get wrapped around her little finger right now with the whammy being something we don’t understand yet, and even afterwards, because of the things I’ve noticed while under its effect, I’ll always be second guessing myself, on whether or not pure physical attractions that were built during that time, are my own, or if they’re from the enchantment.”
Realizing I should reassure Illy, I quickly add, “Thankfully, despite you being ridiculously gorgeous, I truly like you and enjoy goofing off with our verbal sparring. You’re absolutely delightful Illy, and I love you. Maybe in a few weeks, if we’re all still standing, and if you get comfortable around us, I might offer to tie you into the psychic bond with my inner circle, so that you have access to our idyllic thinkspace. We can project our avatars there, rather than just emotions, words, and a few hints of expressions.”
Iylynila rubs the back of her head, a bit chagrined, not sure where to go from there in the conversation. She mutters aloud, “I uh. You’ve got me pegged. I really was just going to kinda string you guys along to see if I could rile you up into seeking out more people. Sorry. Though, the maybe today was still real. Was still a maybe, but it was real. If, crap, I. I told myself I wouldn’t ever start a thing, because I didn’t know who I’d be, if I might be obsessed, and I’m friggin’ obsessed you little gremlin. But even with that, I feel bad, like, I understand if knowing what I was going to do ruins your image of me. Or, or you just hate me, I, I guess. Hell I’m trying to sabotage this aren’t I? Shiii— can you, crap, I don’t know. I’m not letting you get a word in edgewise.”
Gnawing on my lip, trying to figure out how best to absolve Illy, I raise an eyebrow towards her, hinting that I’m about to do something, and that she shouldn’t be too startled. I literally sweep her off her feet telekinetically, so that she doesn’t have to crouch or bend, and I lift myself telekinetically as well, into the darkest, most private shelf of the stacks of our little library. I situate us so that we’re snuggled tightly together, where our weight or general motions won’t make any noises.
Kissing her playfully several times, I offer, “I know Illy. I knew. It’s not news to me. None of it. None of it surprises me or hurts me or shocks me or makes me think any less of you. Sorry about letting you get obsessed with me, sort of. I mean, it makes me feel all nice and tingly to know, but I understand if it sucks for you, and I’d prefer for you to be happy. I’ll keep saying it til it sinks in. I love you, Dummy.”
Iylynila’s heart flutters and she groans before responding, “Damnit Reggie. Why couldn’t you just be a chump? Ugh, I don’t even want to stop being obsessed with your stupid jerky dorky ass. Why do you have to say the nicest things? Ugh.”
Unable to help myself, I tease, “There you go fixated with asses again. Tsk tsk, might be a medical condition at this point.”
The fluster that this earns me is incredible, as are the playful slaps to my shoulders. Illy defends herself, “You know damn well I wasn’t talking about your non-existent butt. Or any butts. You’re the ass. Ass. Ugh but you’re so friggin’ cute, stop with that smile. Damnit I’m melting. Am I melting? I’m melting. Stupid munchkin gremlin crimson smurf goblin ass cutie.”
I find it a bit funny that she keeps leaning into insults for shortness, because I used to be around three to four and a half feet tall or so, or somewhere in there at least, in this form, but I’ve been slowly changing it over the last month or two, and now it’s around five and a half feet tall. I wonder what she’d have thought of my form when I was even more compact? I’m also a bit curious where the crimson part of crimson smurf comes in. It might be my hair, maybe my blush, maybe both, or it might be that I make her blush. I waggle my eyebrows at her as I know she’s following along with every word in my train of thought, earning me the blush I was just thinking about, and another set of heart flutters, and another playful slap.
Sighing, I state, “I wish I could spend more time like this Illy, but I really want to see what else we can dig up, and I’ve got two more psychic networks to do tonight still. Do you want to come with, and see Teuila or anything?”
There’s an odd mixture of heart flutter and hesitation at the mention of Teuila. Something in Illy balks at the idea of possibly having even more romantic entanglements herself, when she’d really just wanted to set other drama in motion for other people. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d probably guess that Teuila’s constant affection is wearing down Illy’s resolve, because Te is loving, lovable, fun, damned cute when she wants to be, and absolutely gorgeous. Illy’s mind is stuttering and stopping as she tries to parse whether she wants to see both me and Teuila at the same time, in the same room right now. Oh, for other reasons too. We don’t have to mention them if you’re scared Illy.
Her eyebrows query me pleadingly, and I nod. I’ll make sure to put temporary walls up every time thoughts go anywhere near that moment Illy. I think Illy would enjoy Teuila even when Te isn’t being aimed like a self-guided missile straight for affection, or maybe even moreso. Te trains, usually more than she has in the last few days, and she’s itching to get some training done.
Teuila’s fighting style with her fists has always been a bit more about brute force. I don’t have the strength to pull that off, so my style has always been about weaving dodging in to tap sensitive or critical points with elementally-boosted attacks. Just from looking at Illy, and knowing her age, I get the sense that she has a graceful, flowing, yet *powerful* combat style, that might translate from her human form, to her dragon form. I’m sure Te would beg for Illy as a sparring partner, coach, or tutor, once she figured it out. Like, right now, riding my wavelengths, giddy as can be.
I guess we’ll see, huh? I snirk, loosing a half laugh while having teased no one but myself really.