#Celise shoket

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drawing icons is hard idk how people do it

celise icons in two flavours: pov you are a delicious piece of meat + ordinary dead zombie stare

[cloudbattrolls]

Celise being enraged at Epsilo is made funnier to me by the fact that he can wear them like a scarf

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ma theres a weird fuckin frog outside

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After Pain

[CW: Emetophobia]

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Celise had been unceremoniously ushered out of the clinic late one night, much to their confusion. They barely recalled how they ended up there in the first place, what they were being treated for, and how much time had passed. Everything was… Blurry, clouded, even their senses felt dulled and their memory hazy.

If something was wrong with them, shouldn’t Chryso have done something to fix this?

They had asked the doctor that, but they responded in an incredibly uncharacteristic way that had just made Celise even more confused: This is your life now. If you need help, speak to a mortician, not a doctor. 

They had placed a bottle of pills and a prescription into Celise’s hands, and that was that. Upon further examination, they read ‘PHENTERMINE’ and the dosage seemed to be much higher than an ordinary appetite suppressant. Almost as if it was to stop them from eating entirely. 

Celise had far too many questions on their mind, but… They were finding it difficult to work up the energy to ask them. It was as if their brain could no longer operate as quickly as it used to, and when they tried to open their mouth their tongue just felt too heavy and their jaw too slack. All that really came to mind was how hungry they felt.

They’ll try one of those pills when they get home, they think.

Few trolls were wandering the streets at this hour, and those who were paid Celise no mind. They didn’t seem to care about the cuspblood’s slow, stumbling gait, their unfocused gaze darting between any sign of movement, and the sludgy liquid drooling from their mouth as they picked up the scent of something delicious. 

The cafes and restaurants had closed at this hour, and the general store did not leave any produce outside lest it be spoiled in the rain. They were not close enough to the pier to smell the seafood freshly caught by fishermen, all that could be catching their attention was… 

They had vague memories from back at the clinic of tearing into… Something. Grey. Fatty, full of bones, but delicious. Feeling it's cold flesh between their fingers. Crunching on bones until they dissolved. Biting chunk after chunk and barely distinguishing between the harder sinewy meats and the soft organs. Licking blood off their face and teeth. Snarling and clawing at the other trolls in the room until they offered them more meals. Wishing they could have devoured something far more fresh.

But, that can’t be right. They were a vegetarian. Even the smell of meat makes them feel nauseous. 

They shook their head, looked down at the pill bottle in their hand, and continued home. Not too long until they can try one of these suppressants and hope it stops those weird thoughts.

It was a short walk to their hive given that they live closer to the centre of the town, and after a long time fumbling with their keys (for some reason they seemed to stick to their hands sometimes…), they arrived home. The air felt slightly damp and musty in a way that they normally would have been concerned that the roof had sprung a leak, but something about it this time just felt inviting. They live in a town plagued by constant heavy rainfall, why wouldn’t they enjoy a bit of moisture?

But, it also made them aware that they haven’t had a shower in who knows how many nights. Their skin felt slick and sweaty, so it was definitely needed.

As soon as they entered the bathroom, however, their reflection in the mirror stopped them in their tracks. The thoughts of showering had already left their mind as they stepped closer to the sink, entranced by their own reflection.

The most obvious change was their eyes, pupils as clouded as their vision felt at times, and scleras tinted teal with heavy bags underneath that made it appear as if they haven’t slept in weeks. They gripped the sides of the sink as they leaned in closer, nose almost touching the mirror. They didn’t have that greenish colouration in their pupils before, which matched the discolouration they could spot around their eyes and corners of their mouth. It was as if their skin had been permanently bruised in places, but the spots and splodges were still deliberately placed.

Their ears twitched in confusion, and they felt their hair brush against something, causing them to move away from the mirror in surprise. Tucking the long strands of fringe behind their ears they found - fins? A single, flat pair with the same green-teal-blue gradient as their eyes and small clusters of spots, but completely non-functional, just like they’ve seen on Vallis and Lernie. They could wiggle their ears like they always could, and while the fins were clearly attached to them, they couldn’t move them separately. They grabbed one of them and gave it a slight tug. Ow, it’s definitely a part of them. But, how?

Then Celise noticed their hands. The skin had similarly discoloured to that greenish hue, but it was darker in tone that faded into a gradient past their wrists. It again reminded them of Vallis’ hands, down to the slight webbing in between them. And… They felt sticky, like there was a thin film covering them. Something that gave them a gut feeling that, if they chose to, they could secrete more slime to allow things to stick to their hands more easily - or, perhaps they could stick to surfaces as well. 

In fact, another look in the mirror and then a quick removal of their jumper proved that the film of slime was completely covering them, not sweat like they had originally assumed. They twisted their body to try and get a glimpse of their back, and noticed the discoloration continued down their spine, forming long trails of splodges and spots that started to remind them of their lusus’ patterns. As they turned again they felt the damp air of the bathroom brush against the skin, and realised just how easily they could breathe now. Not just through their lungs (if those were still functional), but through their own skin as well. It felt nice, calming even, like… Maybe this wasn’t so bad, after all? 

… No, it was gross. It looked wrong, and they hadn’t lost their mind yet to think otherwise.

They stuck out their tongue in disgust at their own reflection, but found out that it just… Kept going. About two feet long by their general estimate, soft and slimy to touch, and after a bit of experimental moving about, fully prehensile. They let out a gurgling screech in shock, and quickly retracted it back into their mouth. It moved almost instantly and sat quite comfortably in their jaw despite the obvious change in size, to the point where it looked very normal whenever they opened their mouth. But despite its trollike appearance, their tongue resembled their lusus’ in terms of function.

There was no mistaking it now, they’ve become some sort of frog-like… Thing. Spontaneously developed all sorts of markings and mutations, just like what happened to Vallis. 

No, they knew exactly what sort of thing they'd become.

The gnawing hunger at the back of their mind, the sluggish movements, the supposed taste for troll flesh… There was no worse fate that could have been given to them.

A zombie, but not a traditional kind that they barely accept as a decent monster for a horror film. A weird zombie, one that their boss Aysnir would adore, with a weird appearance that could be mistaken for bad stage makeup, with weird abilities that would catch an audience’s attention but provide no substance to the overall plot and themes, and with a weird overall gimmick that would pit them against some other stupid zombie hybrid the director would salivate over.

They wanted to be mad, furious even, that someone could have done this to them - to murder them for no reason - but… While they could bare their teeth at their reflection and growl and croak, they just didn’t feel like they could get any angrier than that.

Instead of rage, they just felt hungry.

Celise made their way into the kitchen, forgetting that they were only half-dressed, and began to look through the fridge. They vaguely recalled someone telling them while they were at the clinic that they should try out different foods now that they’ve become… This, but their appetite was immediately ruined by the smell of expired milk permeating from a slightly-opened carton. They gagged, holding a hand to their mouth to stop their tongue from lolling out, and proceeded to pour the carton down the sink. 

But despite this nausea, their stomach rumbled again. The appetite suppressants were already long-forgotten, as there were far too many things distracting the cuspblood. 

Leaving the empty milk carton by the sink, they returned to the fridge and pulled out everything that hadn’t passed its expiry date and started to feverishly tear into them, only to be met with the same disgusted reaction.

The strawberries tasted rotten. The yoghurt’s texture was lumpy and wrong. The cheese tasted like they were shovelling mouthfuls of mold down their throat. Even the crackers they’d grabbed from the pantry had a rancid flavour to them. Everything they tried to eat was rotten and disgusting and wrong and after gagging their way through countless foods, it finally resulted in them doubling over the sink and vomiting up sludgy chunks of barely-digested food and pond scum. Their eyes stung with inky tears and their throat felt like it was burning with reflux. 

A few more long minutes of gagging and retching, and eventually they felt like it was all over. They reached over to turn on the tap and washed it all down the sink, and attempted to clean anything that got stuck to their long strands of fringe as well. They hadn’t reacted quick enough to move them away from the sink in time.

With that over, Celise slumped to the ground and lied down, comforted by the coolness of the kitchen tiles. There was no mistaking it now, was there? Their body outright rejected regular food. It was no wonder Chryso had prescribed that medication to them… Medication they should have taken in the first place. They curled up in a fetal position on the floor, bringing their knees as close to their head as they could. They wanted to cry, to mourn the loss of their old life and how nothing would be the same, but they just… Couldn’t. 

All senses dulled except for their olfactory senses, all emotions seemingly dulled as well. Gone, and replaced with this weird new body and a constant gnawing hunger. A hunger that claws and craves and whispers sweet songs into the ears that they’ll feel better once they eat more, they’ll feel stronger and clearer-headed and back to how they used to be. But they can’t, they just can’t. No matter how good it smells, how good it tastes, how good it feels in their mouth, they just can’t eat meat. It’s wrong and gross and disgusting and wrong and-

There is a knock at the door, the one closest to the kitchen that leads outdoors. 

Their nose twitches, and they smell an offering. 

Their eyes widen and they begin to salivate. A long, animalistic noise sounding something between a growl and a croak leaves their throat. They twist unnaturally and start to sit up, their tongue slithering out of their mouth to taste the stray scent of seafood and troll meat in the air. All previous thoughts start melting away, consumed by the desire to be sated. 

Like a man possessed, they leap to their feet and make a lunge for the door.

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The Killing Type

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Lusien had been feeling a disturbance in Vernrot. A shift in the air, imperceptible to the town’s other residents, but one that made his skin crawl.

It was not like the time Those Who Slumber In The Deep had become unstable due to an unrelated shift in the world’s balance, threatening to drown out the town with constant torrential downpours and causing Lusien to fall under their spell.

It was different. On a smaller scale. 

But, as a number of bodies had been discovered around town the past few nights, all heavily mutilated from multiple axe wounds, it was no less dangerous than any entity residing within the area.

It was something that Lusien needed to stop, before paranoia got a hold of the residents and plunged the community into total chaos. 

And he had a hunch on who the culprit is - not one based on evidence or forensic research, as he was a lighthouse keeper, not a detective - but through pure observation.

It was the fact that for weeks now, every time he passed by the library, or the hive belonging to one of its employees, he found his psiionics overwhelmed by a dark, murderous aura emanating within.

Ever since the first body showed up, Lusien had taken to patrolling the streets in the early hours of the morning, when the other residents were likely to be asleep. The time of day hardly mattered in this town, as the constant rainfall blocked out the sun that would ordinarily harm the nocturnal troll species, but routines were still ingrained to fall in line with the outside world. It also meant that for someone supposedly hell-bent on taking innocent lives for their own enjoyment, these routines allowed them to conduct their deeds with little to no witnesses. The only trolls around would be lost tourists struggling to find their hotel after too many drinks at the pub, or a few stray locals hurrying home after a long night at work. 

The former was an unfortunate incident, but ultimately unlikely to be missed. The death of the latter category was the real concern. Only so many local residents are trained to operate the many facilities of the town, and there are some who have gained the favour of the town’s supernatural residents, whether they knew it or not.

That was also how he felt more confident in his gut feeling, as when he had passed the fountain in the town’s main square, he heard the curses from the melusine, crying for the frog to be torn to shreds after murdering her favourite visitor. He left her an offering of some freshly-caught salmon, and muttered an apology.

It was fortunate that the streets were otherwise quiet, but that did not ease Lusien’s concerns one bit. Either the killer had not been active tonight - or he could have already been too late. 

He turned down the next corner into one of Vernrot’s twisting alleyways, and came face-to-face with the troll he was looking for. 

The troll looked frazzled, like they’d hardly gotten any sleep over the past few nights, and… More distressed than murderous, if Lusien were to be perfectly honest. However, swirling all around them was a dark aura so thick it almost obscured their face.

If Lusien was less experienced with his psiionics, he could have mistaken them as being possessed by an angry spirit. But that was hardly the case. No, a murderous aura of that degree could only be made by sweeps of unchecked aggression and bottled-up emotions, combined with the grudges of their previous victims sticking to them like tar. 

Despite the extreme unpleasantness and danger emanating from the troll, Lusien addressed them levelly.

“Celise. What are you doing here?” 

Celise squeaked and tensed up, feeling caught-out, and their fingers reflexively twitched as if curling around the handle of an invisible weapon.

“I’m- It’s- It's nothing, I’m just, um- Walking!” They replied back, though their tone was frantic and distressed. Their eyes rapidly darted between Lusien’s face and their own hands.

Lusien raised an eyebrow, as he could not get a read on their expression or motivations, but he could tell they were not being truthful. 

“At this time of night? You should be in bed,” he looked at them with slight wariness, but kept his tone flat. He didn’t want to cause any trouble.

Celise’s hands twitched again. 

“I’m just, um- I’m clearing my head! It’s too stuffy in my hive and, um- Too stressful.”

The blueblood hummed in response, still trying to get a read on them. Celise was also hyper-analyzing his intense gaze, the way he stood so solidly and looked down on them, his intimidating presence… They felt like they were being judged. 

They had been backed into a corner yet again, and they were certain that the lighthouse keeper knew what they had been doing to relieve stress. And, what’s the problem with their actions? It’s not like he hasn’t killed anyone before! They’ve heard the rumours around town, and only didn’t pursue it because as an antagonist he was just so boring. 

But it’s the boring ones who are capable of fully commanding any scene they enter, no matter how cliche their inclusion as a twist villain could be.

Celise gritted their teeth. 

“It’s- It's not your business, anyway! What I’m, um- What I’m doing!” They cried out as one final warning, but they already felt the itch to retaliate. 

Lusien stared for a moment, taking in a long drag of his cigarette, and decided that was that. There wasn’t much else he could do to stop them, other than make them aware that their actions would not be tolerated.

“Okay. Next time, you should try something different. A different way to work with your hands, maybe.”

He nodded at his own suggestion, not expecting it to be taken seriously, and turned around to leave.

But he should have known better than to turn his back on a panicked troll. One whose hands were ready to grip the axe in their strife deck at any given moment. One whose mind was frantic with fears that someone knows, someone who thinks he can just tell them what to do, someone who doesn’t care how they really feel, someone who dismisses them just like how Epsilo didn’t care to hear them out or Vallis didn’t care to consider their own interests or Tuuya didn’t care to pay attention all the time-  

Lusien heard the footsteps rapidly approaching him, but did not turn around in time before Celise had swung their axe and struck him in the back.

The blueblood cried out in pain and staggered as the weapon was yanked out, causing him to be knocked to the ground. His cigarette ended up in a puddle somewhere, but that was the least of his worries. He was hardy like all highbloods, and the amount of layers of thick clothing he wore provided some cushioning, but that did not make the cut any less deep and the blood loss any less rapid. 

He first quickly confirmed that he still had feeling in his legs, meaning that his spine had not been hit, then stared back at his assailant with fear in his eyes. 

Celise stared back at him, equally as wide-eyed, as if it was their first time actually acknowledging the consequence of their actions. Their grip on the axe handle was so strong their knuckles were whitening, and they seemed torn between swinging again to stop the blueblood from moving any further, or… Lusien wasn’t sure what else they could be thinking, their expression was unreadable, and he was still struggling to see their face amongst the blackened aura and the spinning scenery. 

He had to do something fast, otherwise he would end up dead, no ifs and buts about it. Could he stand back up and try to subdue them somehow? It hurt like nothing he’d experienced before, and he already felt like he was struggling to breathe, and he wasn’t sure if he could wrestle the weapon out of Celise’s hands.

But he could try, or he could-

No. It would be wrong to fight back. He could seriously injure them - or himself - if he tried.

But it would be quick, it would not be messy, and it would cause the least amount of problems to the town itself. And that was his main goal, to protect the safety of Vernrot Harbour no matter what, and that includes himself, even when the chances now seem slim.

He could not die here. Not when there was no one else to look after the town and its entities in his absence. Not when there’s no one else who can operate the lighthouse. And not when Anirus could return at any point, with no one to warn them of his passing.

He could never do such a thing to his matesprit, to leave them with no message or no final goodbye, and subjecting them to a lifetime of wondering what could have happened if they just visited a few weeks earlier, what if they stayed a couple nights longer, what if they gave up their merchant life and settled down, what if…

With adrenaline pumping through his veins and a heavy resolve in his gaze, Lusien stood back up. 

Celise screeched, terrified that the blueblood had not stayed down like their other victims, and unsteadily prepared to swing their arms back with the axe still in hand. 

Speed was not usually on Lusien’s side, but the combination of raw strength and desperation was. Before the other troll could make their second strike, he retrieved his wrench from his strife deck, and took a swing.

The weapon connected with the side of their head, and Celise dropped to the ground like a stone.

Lusien stumbled and wheezed from over-exertion, needing to stop to regain his bearings. His breath was ragged, strained from the ache in his back and the tar in his lungs, heart working overtime to keep himself conscious. 

But even as his vision started to blur, he could tell that Celise was no longer moving. Teal-blue blood began to pool where their head met the concrete.

Shit.

Shit.

He needed to do something now. They needed a doctor. Chryso’s clinic was-

No time to think. Lusien scooped up the smaller troll into his arms, trying to support their head to the best of his ability. His legs felt like lumps of lead as he tried to put one foot in front of the other, pushing himself to the absolute limit. He couldn’t tell if his back was feeling numb, or if the pain was so bad that he could no longer fathom it.

He knew the town like the back of his hand. He could walk the streets in his sleep. This almost felt like a dream, he was dazed and quickly becoming delirious from the blood loss, seeing lights and colours and only vaguely recognising them as streetlights. He could feel shadows clouding his vision, and whispers entering his ears, unsure if they were leading him in the right direction or taking him in circles.

“Gods, Gods above, O Slumbering Ones, guide this one to safety, for they do not deserve this tragedy I have bestowed upon them,” He rasped to no one in particular. The words didn’t feel like his, but an ancient chant once declared of sweeps long passed, encoded into his blood. In fact, he had immediately forgotten that he had spoken those words as soon as they had left his mouth.

But, perhaps… Maybe, he had called upon a favour, and something will respond in kind.

…

…

Lusien faintly recalled the blinding fluorescents of the clinic’s interior, the squeak of his shoes as he slipped on the pool of blood gathering underneath him as he had stood there gormlessly with Celise still in his hands, and the words of Dr. Haanda as his body hit the floor.

“Good grief.”

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ok now all my pixel updates are in order

its been 3 years and finally lucy has the messier hair his sprites are supposed to. and also the more recent design updates

also a floaty symbol for ropikk since ill need that for her profile when i get around to putting it up on TH. no prizes for where i traced that flower from lmao

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💫!!!!

the random generator has given you: Celise!

They used to eat bugs when they were a kid, and still don't mind the taste and Cronch of a good bug today, but they'd never admit to eating them. They did have a very long stint of being vegetarian because meat grosses them out, but dying and then being resurrected as a zombie kinda uh. Complicated things

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Re-Animator, See You Later

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Lusien drifted in and out of consciousness for nights on end, only vaguely comprehending the scenes around him. He heard the beeping of the machines and muffled chatter between the doctor and their assistant, saw lights far too bright to make him want to keep his eyes open, and felt the frequent waves of pain and nausea between rounds of medication he could barely recall taking.

For the first time since that night he confronted Celise - however long that may have been, he had no idea - he found himself finally able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time.

He kept his eyes closed as he tried to sit up, grunting from the strain that any slight movement put on his back. His head felt like it was spinning, and putting a hand to his forehead confirmed the warmth of a developing headache. He was utterly exhausted, but also feeling a bit restless, like he needed to get up out of this hospital bed and do something.

He needed a cigarette. 

Lusien cracked open one eyelid just enough to figure out where the bedside table was, then blindly reached over to try and locate his pack of smokes. He doesn’t know where the nurse took his coat - or his other clothes, for that matter - but if she emptied out his pockets then she must have left it-

He winced and recoiled as a clipboard smacked against his wrist.

“Absolutely not, Avalon.”

Lusien grunted and held his wrist, and then opened his eyes to see the incredibly disgruntled face of Chryso Haanda, Vernrot Harbour’s local doctor. 

“I’ll need them later,” The blueblood mumbled, certain that the other troll is well-aware that no one enjoys going through nicotine withdrawal, especially someone who smokes as heavily as he does.

Chryso’s lips curled into a snarl, and they bopped Lusien on the head with the clipboard this time.

“In my clinic? You’re damned lucky I didn’t remove your lungs while I had you under my knife. It’d make no damn difference whether you have them or not, lord knows how you managed to make it here with that much tar rotting you from the inside out,” they scoffed.

Lusien pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes again, which conveniently helped him fight the urge to roll them in response. 

“And don’t even think of doing any strenuous exercise like that while you’re recovering, if you’re even capable of such a thing. No swimming, no climbing up flights of stairs, and no picking at the wound no matter how much it may itch. If I have to redo those stitches a second time I will be ensuring they leave the worst scar imaginable, do not test me.” The tealblood tapped the clipboard with their pen as they listed off their various health advice and threats.

Lusien could already feel himself struggling to concentrate, and while Chryso continued to list off all the dos and don’ts of recovering from getting stabbed in the back with an axe, their words were starting to blend together in a muddle of annoyed sounds. He decided it would be best to simply nod along and pretend to listen, as any sort of wound care was the last thing on his mind.

There was the question of who was managing the lighthouse at the moment, if anyone at all. He knew from his time travelling with Anirus that it can go unattended for some time without any major disasters occurring, but in his current condition… It could be a while before it could be back in operation.

Then, there was also…

“How is Celise?” Lusien asked when he was able to get a word in, looking up at the doctor.

Chryso gave him a deadpan look, as if he had just asked something utterly absurd.

“They’re dead.”

Lusien’s mouth fell open, and his head began to spin from the immediate rush of blood to the brain from a combination of anxiety and pure terror. D- Dead? But he- It was only- 

Chryso did not react in the slightest, and continued. 

“Fatal traumatic brain injury via a blow to the head, preliminary analysis points to blunt force trauma being the primary culprit-” They stop, noticing the blueblood’s expression of horror, and sigh loudly. “- Is what should be the most straightforward answer. The reality is far more absurd, and, quite frankly, not something any doctor should ever have the displeasure of dealing with.”

The lighthouse keeper pauses, snapped out of his spiralling by that strange declaration. He then squints at Chryso in confusion.

“Which is…?”

“Despite every single test I have conducted since you dragged a literal corpse into my clinic confirming that, yes, there is absolutely no signs of brain activity and all organs have catastrophically failed, they are still conscious and moving. I had to bind the damn frog to their bed after they tried to bite nurse Baliso.” 

Chryso sighed a second time at the recollection, and briefly pushed up their glasses to rub the weariness out of their eyes. Lusien could not believe what he was hearing.

“I need to see them,” he said, suddenly urgent, and despite every part of his body protesting, he began to attempt to climb out of bed.

The tealblood grabbed him by his shoulders and tried to force him back down.

“You absolutely will not, Avalon. I warned you once, do not test me.” 

Lusien stayed firm, and attempted to push back against Chryso’s own strength.

“No. I will be seeing them. It’s important.”

Chryso bared their teeth, but could tell by the resolve in Lusien’s tired eyes that this was a losing battle. If he wasn’t going to see the other patient now, then they’d be likely to find him on the floor hours later, having passed out from pushing himself too far from disobeying their orders.

“Fine. You get fifteen minutes and zero chances to complain about any pain. I will not be providing you with any further painkillers from any discomfort caused by walking around when you have been told repeatedly to stop,” they grumbled, and likely would have spat if they were not in such a sanitary environment. 

Lusien nodded in acknowledgement, and as he started to haul himself out of the bed (with all sorts of winces and groans leaving his mouth as he did so), felt a tug against his wrist.

Huh. Oh, right, there’s still all the tubes from the IV drip and presumably a blood transfusion-

“Don’t touch those!” Chryso hissed, smacking Lusien’s hand away with the clipboard yet again, “Just- Just take the pole with you!”

Lusien paused, looking blankly at them, and then realised he would need to get off from the other side of the bed to accomplish that. Of course. 

He was unsteady on his feet once he was finally standing, and kept an iron grip on the IV pole in order to stay upright. His head and back still hurt, the lights were still hurting his eyes, and he was still desperately craving a cigarette, but he tried his best to put that aside for now. The doctor did not approve of any complaints, and finding out Celise’s current condition was more important.

Chryso led him out the door and towards the room where the other patient was staying, but not without first rolling their eyes and mumbling ‘I told you so’ at the sight of Lusien’s painfully slow pace. They did not help him, but opted to walk alongside him and kept their hand on the IV pole, so that if he fell it would not be knocked over with him. 

As the two approached the room, Lusien felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It was that same feeling of wrongness once again, but this time… Different. Quieter. Hungrier. He glanced over at the doctor, but their expression had not changed. They could not sense it. 

When Chryso opened the door and ushered the blueblood inside Celise’s room, he could only stop and stare. 

Celise was sitting on the hospital bed, and as the doctor had mentioned before, had been restrained with medical-grade straps to prevent them from leaving their position. One wrapped around their chest and upper arms to bind them to the elevated half of the bed that allowed them to remain in an upright position, and presumably their legs were similarly bound underneath the bedsheets.

They appeared completely listless, eyes unfocused with teal-blue tinged sclera and pupils appearing slightly cloudy, and dark bags under each eye. The colour of their horns had dulled, darkening around the base, and their hair was greasier and more unkempt than usual. A sludge-like liquid dribbled out of their mouth, not unlike the ink he has personally experienced when under horrorterror influence, and there was a vague wetlands-y smell in the air. Under the bright lights, their skin had a slick sheen to it which Lusien first assumed was sweat, but upon closer inspection appeared to be more like a thin film of slime. Even the dark aura he could see with his psiionics had a lethargic air to it, less explicitly murderous but still highly dangerous.

As he had approached, however, Celise’s gaze suddenly fixated on him as they caught a whiff of his scent, and they emitted a noise that was a cross between a low growl and a croak. Between the slight curl of their lip, Lusien caught a glimpse of a pair of incredibly sharp teeth. They continued to drool, like an animal who has spotted a delicious piece of meat that is just out of their grasp, too transfixed on their own hunger to care about the liquid dripping onto their shirt.

It was incredibly obvious to him what they had become. A slight deviation from the norm for that kind of creature, but the signs were all there.

“Doctor,” he said, turning to face the tealblood. He spoke slowly and matter-of-factly, knowing what he was about to say would likely earn him a comment about whether he also suffered a head injury. But it needed to be done. 

“Do you have any spare cadavers?”

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👑 1, 9, 10, 15, 18 :)

1 - My smartest muse

i don't think i have an overall smartest muse, but i do have a lot of characters who have highly specialised knowledge in one field but are generally average in everything else

Vallis is a scientist who specialises in both troll and marine biology, Viltau is very knowledgeable when it comes to his own hobbies (cooking, literature, cinema) and generally enjoys learning about everything he can, Sharle speaks four languages and knows a lot about open-wheel race cars, and Mikiel has a lot of (very biased) knowledge about classical music and the arts, just to name a couple

9 - The muse who has changed the most

physically? i mean Vallis became a horrorterror hybrid and Celise got turned into a zombie lmao

but in terms of general character development, i'd say the Velour has done a lot recently. he's been learning to move on from his past mistakes that were always holding him back, take time off his work to manage his stress and anxiety (after a controversy involving a fan nearly tanked his whole career), and has found a new close group of friends and a moirail who are all very supportive of him while also making sure he keeps it real

10 - The muse with the most outfits

Velour, again. the man's a fashion designer, and his talksprites have like 7 alternate outfits not including toggleable accessories

15 - My most dangerous muse

Mikiel and Fleure in terms of raw power, given that the former is an incredibly powerful psiionic and the latter is an even more powerful mage + dragon shifter. both will only attack if they feel provoked, though (or in Mikiel's case, he has to do it for his job), so they can hold a civil conversation and be reasoned with

in terms of general dangerousness, you do not want to get on Viltau's bad side. man really loves his torture. and point-blank assassinations. and petty revenge. and he used to kidnap people's lusii and cook them if they really pissed him off, and only stopped because his matesprit disapproved

18 - My most extroverted muse

probably a toss-up between Callan, Amarys, and Glasya. i don't tend to write extroverted characters because i am very much Not one, so most of mine tend to lean more towards introvert / ambivert

[raitrolling]

Celise's profile on here as been updated :]

'but what about their profile on toyhou.se?' you ask, but i am already walking away and picking up my switch to play pokemon

[raitrolling]

The Craving

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Celise glanced out the train window, watching the scenery pass by. Ordinarily they would have been much more interested in watching the other passengers, examining their small habits, surreptitiously taking notes on their behaviour, trying to deduce what kind of person they must be by witnessing this tiny slice of their life.

But, it was hard to concentrate on the living when one so desperately craves consuming them.

The last time they left town to visit Tuuya they were accompanied by Vallis and his disturbingly-familiar pet, the cuspblood having trapped them against the window to prevent them from escaping and feasting on the irresistible meat bags that were aboard the carriage without trying to climb over him first.

Meat bags, they grimaced, they didn’t know if it was better or worse to de-personify what they hunger for the most. 

Without the cephalopod troll to distract them, they felt antsy, famished. They hadn’t wanted to see him again, but he did function as a decent roadblock when required. They drummed their fingers against their thighs as an attempted distraction, ears twitching at the sound of their slightly-sticky fingers hitting the papers on their lap. 

It was a copy of their latest screenplay, one they had emailed to their boss Aysnir for a review. As always, he loved it and thought it was brilliant. And as always, he wanted to meet with them in person to discuss it.

It was Celise’s usual psychological horror fare written into an approximately one hundred minute film, but for once they had incorporated something a lot more personal into it.

Something the zombie-loving indigoblood might actually approve of without edits.

Obskur Productions was a modest-sized studio, its movie budgets funded primarily through the owner’s seemingly-endless riches. Props were made in-house, and when Celise passed the workshop they spotted two of their co-workers constructing fake sci-fi technology by sticking hivehold objects to cardboard boxes and spraypainting them chrome. They were too engrossed in their work to notice the screenplay writer pass by, but Celise never cared to speak with their colleagues anyway.

They walked onto the only sound stage within the building, in which one of the sets was in the middle of being constructed. Befitting the props of the previous room, the scene around them was supposed to resemble a Fleetship interior, every square inch covered in futuristic chrome and blinding white lights. The brighter the stage, the more the special effects would stand out, the director had declared.

Celise remembered what this film was supposed to be. They wrote a scene about a spacefarer on a solo trip, but the ship loses power and they end up drifting aimlessly through space. The isolation would slowly drive the protagonist mad, oxygen levels and food rations would deplete over the course of the movie, and they would be convinced they were hearing something aboard the ship with them…

Aysnir wanted aliens. Giant insectoid aliens that crawl through the vents, with needle teeth and Xenomorph-style second jaws, and an ovipositor tail that’ll implant its eggs into unsuspecting trolls until they hatch and its young will explode out of their victim’s stomach.

It was such a stupid idea. The frog troll clenched their teeth, glaring straight ahead. This set design was meant to be clinical, sanitised, alien, familiar yet wholly unwelcoming and hostile. Not the stage for even more pointless blood splatters and weird bodily explosions.

While they were occupied by their own raging thoughts, they heard footsteps approach them - albeit dulled, thanks to how their senses had altered as a result of their undeath. What was more apparent to them was the smell, the expensive citrus and sandalwood cologne belonging to Aysnir Obskur could not hide that irresistible scent of healthy highblood flesh. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Celise! How’s my brilliant little writer going?” 

Celise was brought back to reality and tensed as the director approached them from behind, giving them a hearty slap on the back and a winning grin.

“It’s… It’s okay,” they murmured, quickly averting their eyes once their gazes met.

“I am loving the make-up, by the way, verrry spooky! Getting all geared up for Fright Night? Or wanting to become a double threat and get up on our stage?” the indigoblood laughed, and patted Celise’s cheek… Then made a small grimace and wiped his hand on his pants, feeling the slimy residue on their face.

Celise grumbled in response, which sounded vaguely like a croak. Their undead state seemed to have altered the vocal cords along all the other physical changes, making them much more froglike in nature. 

“You, um… You wanted to speak to me about my latest script?” They attempted to re-rail the conversation. 

“Yes! Of course! Come with me to my office, we have much to discuss!” Aysnir switched gears, patting the screenplay writer on the shoulder and then giving them a light push in the direction of his office.

Celise never liked how touchy he was. They bit their lip in annoyance, but obediently followed after.

The halls leading to Aysnir’s office were lined with posters of all his favourite movies: The Rainbowdrinker Beach Babes series, Zombie Apocalypse Gorefest 5000, Night of the Killer Zombie Boyfriends, Hurricane Piranha 8D, The Night Flesh-Eating Tapeworm Shifters Ate My Lusus… Celise remembered all their original screenplays for each film, before they were gutted, defiled, perverted. Stripped away of all nuance and artistic integrity, and turned into vapid and lowbrow schlock to suit the director’s own tastes.

‘He will always kill the heart of them and bring them back wrongly,’ Tuuya had told them.

They clutched their latest screenplay close to their chest. But what if this time…?  

Celise had seen the interior of Aysnir’s office so many times the eclectic mix of decorations hardly phased them anymore. Most of them were props from previous films, but there were also the very imposing mannequins wearing costume replicas of Freddy Krueger and Jason Voorhees positioned behind the director’s desk. On the centre of the wall was a signed photograph of Aysnir shaking hands with the director of Sharknado, apparently one of his proudest moments.

They politely sat down on the chair closest to them, and placed their screenplay neatly in front of them. Aysnir did not take his seat at his desk, instead opting to casually lean against it next to them. He always liked to pretend that formalities were below him, he was a cool boss.

Celise was the first to speak.

“So, um… What- What did you think…?” 

“Oh, it’s great! Brilliant as always!” Aysnir replied immediately, and seemingly without any thought. “You added a zombie in it without me needing to ask! Very enthusiastic, love it, love it a lot.”

Celise smiled a little. They knew it, their script about a freshly-turned zombie struggling with their new cravings is finally a hit with him. Quite possibly the sole good thing about their new condition is that it gave them the inspiration to pour all their feelings into a new movie, and ways people can understand their struggles without knowing exactly how real it is-

“Buuut…” The director smiled sheepishly, and looked apologetic at the cuspblood. But not in a way that’s genuinely apologetic, as the jovial tone easily betrayed any notion of empathy. He was clearly going through the motions to let them down gently.

As he always did. 

Celise stayed quiet, and prepared for the worst.

“It’s, well…” Aysnir waved his hand, “You’re doing the thing you always do, Celise. The horror part is always implied!”

He clears his throat, and picks up the screenplay on the desk and flicks through to the offending segment. It’s never a good sign when the director knows exactly where it is.

“‘A series of rapid cuts. Chisma’s bloodstained hands. A brief flash of the half-eaten corpse. An eyeball between teeth. An abstract spray of blood and the squelch of viscera. Scenes too quick for the audience to properly comprehend, but feel all the same.’ Like, this imagery is amazing - brilliant, even - but, the audience wants to see the gore and viscera! And no one likes confusing, dreamlike stories anymore, they want to be told exactly what’s happening on the screen so they don’t have to read an article about a confusing ending afterwards.”

The indigoblood shrugged, then flashed his usual blindingly bright grin. One that he thinks is reassuring, but instead feels patronising.

“So, whaddaya say we scrap all that scene, and then go real hard on the special effects to show the zombie eating his friend in as hi-res detail as possible? The audience? Will love it, it’ll make them squirm, make them scream, make them wanna recommend it to their friends as the most horrifying film they’ve ever watched!”

Celise bit their lip and clenched their fists in their lap. It- It’s still not good enough?

“But, that’s… I thought you would…” They look away, unsure how to convince their boss how to keep his hands off their script once more.

“Like it?” Aysnir completed their sentence, slightly incredulous. Then he laughs. “Of course I like it! Love it, even. You know how talented you are, and I am oh-so-lucky to have you! But we’re not just a movie production company, we’re a business. We gotta give the audience what they want, and I know what that is. We’re the perfect team! You come up with your brilliant little ideas-” He points at Celise, “and I make them marketable.” He points back at himself.

Of course. It’s about marketability. As if movies are a product, not an art. A means to get people in cinema seats paying full price tickets to see something mediocre, but the quality of the work doesn’t matter as long as the funds go back into Aysnir’s pockets.

It was sickening. Celise felt their stomach growl. 

“But, um, I don’t- I don’t want them to be marketable,” they said, softly, uncertain. 

Aysnir made a shocked face. “Huh? You don’t want to be a star? You don’t want trolls of all demographics flooding into theatres all over to witness your brilliant works?” 

“I, um- I do, but-”

“Fantastic! I always knew you were a go-getter!” The indigoblood pointed two fingerguns at Celise. “Buuut, that means we gotta ix-nay the ubtleties-say, y’know what I’m saying? Trust me, I want you to succeed, buddy. That’s why we have these meetings! To figure out how to put a bit of extra elbow grease in, and fine tune that baby until she purrs!”

Celise felt the bile rise in their throat. Saliva bubbled up in their mouth, and they had to stop themselves from growling. The more he talked, the more frustrated they felt. And that just made them hungry. 

‘Do not be Sisyphus, Celise,’ Tuuya’s warning popped into their mind once more, ‘He will always change things because he cannot appreciate them as they are.’ 

They shook their head, and stood up, looking Aysnir dead in the eye.

“No, you don’t understand. I- I don’t want to write something appealing, I want to write something I want. I want to write something special! If people don’t get it, then that’s- That’s their problem!”

Aysnir looked shocked at this outburst for a moment, but then laughed. He put both his hands on Celise’s shoulders.

“Celise, buddy, let’s stay cool, alright?” He grinned.

Celise did not calm down one bit, instead they just felt patronised. They chewed on their lip, and if blood were still pumping through their veins, they would certainly be feeling it start to boil.

“I get it, you want to write your snazzy little horror flick, but in this industry, niche doesn’t work. We’re not arthouse, none of our audience is here for things that make them want to think. I’ve been telling you this over and over again, but I guess you’re just a stubborn little frog, aren’t you?” His tone was light, as if he were speaking to a child, and he continued to pat their shoulders as he spoke. 

A low gravely croak rumbled through Celise’s throat. That feeling of hunger was becoming too much to bear. 

“No, you’re- You’re the one who isn’t listening!” They snapped.

Aysnir, true to how he always acted, was unfazed. In fact, he seemed to find it a bit amusing. 

“Woah, there! How about we take that tone down just a couple notches? I’m listening, I’m always listening, that’s why I always have so many ideas about how to make your ideas better! So, how about we take a breather, relax for a few minutes, and then we’ll hit rewind and go back to the talk about making the zombie scarier?” He took his hands off Celise so he could twirl a finger in a circular motion, gesturing for them to circle back to their previous discussion - or imply that he thinks they’re losing their marbles.

‘He can never bend or break, he can only be tossed aside.’

Celise couldn’t take it any more. Their breaths were heavy and ragged with rage, saliva was pouring out of their mouth, their stomach and jaws screamed at them for some release from this hunger.

Aysnir had noticed this shift in their behaviour, and finally stopped talking, realising that his screenplay writer’s outburst was not funny in the slightest. In fact, he seemed quite afraid of them.

But it was too late. Before their mind could keep up with their movements, they attacked in a starved daze.

The first thing they remember in that moment was their hands grabbing his neck, squeezing tighter and tighter, and their tongue wrapping around his face to muffle any screams, and before he could react the sound of a snap- 

The second thing they remember was a flurry of indigo staining their hands and mouth, the overwhelming smell of fresh meat, a half-chewed mass of flesh in a shredded polo shirt, something no longer beating in their hand, and the squish of an eyeball between their teeth.

[raitrolling]

I think sentient undead are a lot hardier and difficult to kill compared to the regular undead, but they’re still not completely invulnerable. The ‘just shoot them in the head lol’ thing in movies won’t work, but chopping off their head or burning them to cinders would

Their ability to heal wounds is slower than a rainbowdrinker’s and also tied to how much flesh and troll meat they’ve consumed, and when they become too starved they’ll become feral and risk losing their sentience entirely. They also become a lot stronger and faster when feral, at the cost of being easier to kill

And like rainbowdrinkers, they’re also drawn towards magical energy and think Mages Yummy. But despite also having magical energy due to being undead, they don’t tend to cannibalise one another unless it’s an extreme circumstance

[raitrolling]

Raitrolling Character Designs in 2023 be like: what if their eyes had a gradient

[raitrolling]

Considering making Celise’s ears more prominent when I edit their sprites post-Spanner In The Works with their new design

Those tips at the end and tiny tadpole tail-shaped fins are new tho, side effect of The Horrors

[raitrolling]

Wake, From a Dream

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Celise paced around their study, agitated and erratic. Nothing has been going right for them recently.

Not their screenplay ideas, still rejected by the director and twisted into another stupid lowbrow film that he thinks will earn him another couple caegars.

Not Epsilo, who turned into some horrid thing and threatened to kill them; and not Vallis, who still disappoints them with his very existence.

Not even Tuuya, and how trying to get them to cooperate with providing Celise with psychological horror ideas was becoming a chore - what with their constant freezing up right as they were about to describe the juicy details.

Nothing was going right. Everything was wrong. Everything looked wrong, it sounded wrong, it felt wrong, it was wrong, wrong, wrong-

And they hated it so much.

They once tried to explain why they hated it - feeling this way. The way the heat is unbearable and the static in their ears is too loud, the way it constricts their chest and makes them want to claw it open so they can breathe again, the way they feel like their vision blurs and they need to run, they need to get out of here, they need to do something to stop it.

It’s a constant itch now. A boiling pot that threatens to bubble over at any moment. Something that gnaws on their mind and threatens to strangle them in its grip. A feeling unknowable, yet unignorable. 

They paced and paced around the room like a tiger in a zoo enclosure. They felt the gaze of hundreds of spectators bore down on them, speaking in buzzing tones too loudly, purple eyes leaving afterimages in Celise’s mind. Oh, how they wanted to blame someone else for this, to throw all these emotions onto them and let them suffer in their stead. 

They wanted to keep blaming Epsilo for this, and how he forced them down this path and made them so, so, angry.

…

Anger. They had refused to accept this was something they could feel, that something so horrible and so negative was a part of them, but no. That’s what this is. They could deny it no longer.

It was eating them inside, pushing them past their breaking point, making them no different from the types of characters they adored writing so much. Ordinary people being pushed to extraordinary circumstances, compounded by problem after problem and despairing more and more until finally they snap. A means to indulge in the joy of watching an innocent victim going mad.

But they were not thinking of the irony. They were not thinking of anything at all.

They just needed to get the anger out.

The pouring rain outside provided no reprieve from the burning feeling in their head and chest, nor did it drown out the static. They staggered, as if half-asleep and moving entirely on instinct. Each step pounded loudly in their head, muffling out all outside noise. Their gaze fixated firmly ahead on their target - the perfect object upon which to release all these horrible, twisted, painful emotions out on - yet the world around them was blurred and dyed a vicious scarlet.

It did not cross their mind how familiar it felt to hold their axe in their hands. How naturally their stance adjusted to the heft of the weapon. How clean the blade was, yet dulled from overuse.

How, when they swung it directly into the back of their unsuspecting victim over and over until they could no longer hear the screams amongst all the amplified sounds droning in their mind, everything just felt right.

[raitrolling]

Decrescendo

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

The main couch in Vallis’ hive was not the most comfortable place for two trolls to sit together on, by virtue of the fact that there was barely any room to begin with. The seadweller cuspblood loved his plush sea creatures, and while they tended to be spread out amongst the residential portions of his hive, many made their home on the very couch that was intended for guests to sit on. It would make sense - and was quite common - for visitors to move the plushies onto the floor so they had space to relax, but throughout the night Celise’s head had been somewhere else. 

The giant isopod digging into their back didn’t bother them, nor did the turtle squashed under their backside, or the blue-ringed octopus that had fallen off the back of the couch and landed on their shoulder, or the clownfish and sea stars that tickled their legs when they moved to put both feet on the couch after Vallis had left the room to feed his aquarium pets - as he had forgotten to before Celise arrived. They kept their feet elevated thanks to the combination of the couch arm and a whale shark, and underneath their legs was a manta ray. A plush lobster was precariously balanced on the back of the couch as well, perhaps the only thing in the room still watching the documentary playing on the television.

Ordinarily, Celise would have also left the couch to follow after the seadweller when he was tending to his pets, watching his every move and taking notes of every last gesture, trying to decipher the meaning behind the sea creatures he collected and what kind of personality that would suggest to the audience if he were a character in their movie plots, the ways in which this setting could be utilised in the horror genre. Tonight, for some reason they were slowly piecing together, they had no desire to watch.

The more they were granted the opportunity to hang out with Vallis in a casual setting, and the more they noticed the shifts in his behaviour that strayed from their previous observations of him, the more they realised it.

They no longer found him interesting. In fact, they don’t think they felt any sort of attraction towards him at all.

Celise didn’t think this revelation was a sudden flip of a switch, more like something that was slowly building up over time. Small things here and there, and not just the strange discrepancies the frog troll had long since given up on tracking. It wasn’t the way they could have sworn his physical appearance had warped over the course of a sweep, the way he smiles a little too wide and glows a little too brightly. And it wasn’t his more unusual behavioural quirks either, not the way he picked up the habit of humming and how Celise always felt a little hazy if they listened too closely. It wasn’t even the incident from about a perigee or so ago, in which they suddenly passed out in his hive and could hardly recall the following nights other than the fact that Tuuya had brought them to a hotel outside of town.

No, it was a fundamental change in his personality that they were certain was only a recent development.

Vallis was… Strange, scatterbrained, and very easily excitable; all traits Celise had noted down, but were definitely not to this extent. He had a hive full of cute plushies, and - apart from the misplaced scalpels scattered around, - nary an indication of his true, darker nature in sight. When he’d taken Celise on a tour around his laboratory there were no signs of mad scientist scribblings, no traces of morally corrupt experiments that he had once explained to them, just… Ink. Ink, and some scattered notes about biomedical engineering. 

He’d given up on everything that Celise thought made him interesting. No more talks about his studies on mutants, no more strange obsessions with some squid he’d found in the Harbour, just small cheery discussions about his current research into helping Epsilo regrow his fins. The passion for science was still very much there, but the topics were just so boring. 

They had spent sweeps picking Vallis’ brain for horror movie inspiration, flagging him down whenever possible, and even using force when necessary. They may be multiple castes below him, but they still could shove him up against the bookshelves of the library and demand his full attention when required. And while it was not for naught because of all the research notes they received off him, the fact that their affections towards him had completely fizzled away just felt so… So… 

Disappointing. Which, to them, was worse than outright hatred or disgust, though it’s not as if they were the type to feel such things.

They shifted position on the couch as they could feel their back starting to ache, knocking a couple plushies off and revealing one that was hidden under a manta ray pillow pet - A purple hyena. 

A plushie that Vallis would have bought because of Epsilo.

Epsilo, Epsilo, Epsilo. Always a name that constantly leaves the scientist’s mouth, to the point where Celise wonders if it’s possible for him to not mention the other seadweller at least once every few sentences. Vallis’ best friend, his research partner, the one who is always visiting and never seems to leave his side. Whenever he’s around, Celise can’t get anywhere near the troll they once loved. 

They reached over to pick up the plushie, staring into its black beaded eyes. Ever since Epsilo showed up, Vallis has been different. They’re certain of it.

Just- What is his problem, anyway? Why did he think Vallis needed to be fixed? He was fine before, when it was just him and Celise, and he’d tell them about all the experiments he’d done. All the ways to butcher trolls. How it feels to slice into the flesh of someone who is still alive. What experiments had been done in the past to test the limits of the troll body, and how his research is perfectly sanctioned in the eyes of the Empire. The blithe disregard for the feelings of others, and a single-minded pursuit towards his goal. Everything sick, everything twisted, everything beautiful about the psychological profile of a horror villain, all coalescing into their perfect muse.

Their grip tightened around the neck of the hyena, nails clawing into its plush polyester fabric. 

Vallis definitely was not as scatterbrained before he met Epsilo. He was eccentric, but he wasn’t this ditzy. He was dangerous. Cruel intentions behind a sweet smile, a passion for the goals driving him down darker and darker paths. But Epsilo had defanged him, turned him away from a path that Celise found too fascinating for words. 

Their fingers twist around the fabric of the plush. They feel their heart start to race, the room feeling hotter, the sound of static in their ears. They want to hurt it. They want to hurt him. He needed to know he ruined the one they loved. They could saw off his edges like what he did to Vallis. Take the axe that feels heavy in their hands but fits perfectly in their grasp and plunge it into his chest over, and over, and over- 

“Celise?!” 

The teal-blue cusp stopped. Vallis was suddenly in the room. When did he get back?

“Ah. That’s my- Why did you do that?” 

The look on the seadweller’s face is one that Celise has never seen on him before. Eyes wide in shock, the slant of his eyebrows suggesting feelings of despair, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards with trembling lips. Even his tiny fins seemed to droop. It was a look of absolute distraught, but why would it be aimed at them? They didn’t say anything to warrant such a reaction, and if they didn’t know he was here, they couldn’t have done anything to him.

They look over at him curiously, studying every minute detail of his expression, the way his hands are awkwardly posed as if he was going to reach out but hesitated, the movement of his mouth to say something but failing to find the words. Then they looked down.

In their hands was the plush. The hyena had been beheaded, and the disembodied head was in their other hand. They screamed, and tossed the two pieces of the plush in Vallis’ direction.

“That- I didn’t do that! I don’t- I don’t know what happened. It was, um- It was in one piece when I picked it up!” 

They were frantic. The room began to feel hotter again. How did it-? They don’t remember tearing the plush apart, they couldn’t have done it! Why would they do that? Their vision was blurring, the room was spinning. They wouldn’t ruin one of Vallis’ plush toys. They wouldn’t hurt anyone. That’s not who they are, so it couldn’t have been them!

Vallis scooped up the broken hyena off the floor, and cradled it in his arms. It was one of his favourite non-cephalopod plushies, because it reminded him so dearly of his friend. He was quite clearly upset, but also very confused by Celise’s reaction, to the point where he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand why his friend acted so violently, it’s not like they ever hated him - did they? He swallowed the desire to sing out the sadness in his heart, as he couldn’t let his eldritch abilities mess with his friend’s mind once again. But still, the room itself seemed to reverberate his emotional state, the air shifting with palpable melancholy. The humming of a nearby aquarium tank’s motor seemed to whisper to the two trolls in the room- What did you do? Why did you hurt him? Who is to blame?

Celise stood up, looking Vallis in the eye with a panicked gaze. The scene was moving too quickly for them, the room was too hot and too loud, they couldn’t recognise the sad creature mourning the broken plush as the troll they knew, everything is wrong, wrong, wrong- 

They shook their head, trying to rid their mind of the questions swirling around their mind, and fled the scene. Their emotions were still running hot for reasons they did not - or would not - understand. The same thoughts circled their mind as they ran through the town, the cold rain pouring overhead not providing them with any reprieve, their footfalls on the cobblestone roads becoming increasingly heavier with each step.

What did they do? They did nothing, they were just holding the stupid plush toy, why would they break it?

Why did they hurt Vallis? They did not, they don’t know why he was so upset. It was just a stupid toy, and- They could never hurt someone, they’re not that strong or violent and they can’t stand seeing blood or holding their strife weapon or anything that betrays their demure appearance. 

Who is to blame? Who else? Who showed up here for no reason, who never leaves Vallis alone whenever he’s around, who thinks they know better than everyone else, who acts so dismissively towards them and makes something threaten to ignite their chest and their hands to itch for the smooth handle of a weapon to hold and swing at them or to force Vallis to return to his senses so that he can go back to being the perfect subject of Celise’s obsessions and-

The heel of one of the cuspblood’s shoes catches between the gaps of two cobblestones, causing their ankle to twist and the rest of their body to crash to the ground, hard. They let out a cry of pain, and immediately moved to pull themselves back onto their feet. Their stockings had torn open and their knees got scraped in the fall, their hair was plastered to their face from the rain, their body was simultaneously aching and tense all over, and their lungs threatened to start hyperventilating from how hard they were breathing. But that was all irrelevant to them, as they only had one thing on their mind.

They needed to find Epsilo.