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 Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 12:54 am
SO I WILL FIX THIS LATER BUT I HAVE TO JUST GET THE POST OUT I PROMISE TO MAKE IT PRETTY.
Lately, Zeylla had found herself needing to leave her hive more often. Her edginess was uncomforting, and unusual for the blueblood. She was usually steadfast and certain of her every move. Yet, she had left her hive in Four Fronds days ago, and was now standing- miserable and hot- on the edge of Chittentown and deciding where to go from here. She wasn't even certain why she had come here in the first place, besides maybe for some fresh material for her manuscripts.
As it was, she had yet to see anything to interest her, and the heat and her unnatural indecisiveness were getting to her. The irritation crawled under her carapace like a million little bugs she couldn't scratch out. It made her feel tight and claustrophobic. Her eyes dragged along the dusty desertscape and she frowned heavily and adjusted her 'desert wear'. She had it ordered from a rather fine seamstress, and it suited her travels into hotter regions much better then her usual outfit-- yet right now it felt tight around her neck and she fiddled with the neck like a nervous hopbeast.
She needed something to focus on, perhaps something to watch that could ease her fidgety nature. But all these Chittentrolls were so...different. Perhaps she was too used to NHC, to used to that hustle and bustle; crowd and fuss. But this place was slower, less wild, less intense.
But definitely more hot.
Zeylla brushed her curls from her face, disliking the way they clung to her face with disgusting diaphoresis juices, and turned down another street as she ambled down the winding ways in Chittentown, hoping to find some shaded spot to troll watch from. As it was, she was finding that all the shaded areas were lacking in excitement, and all the excitement was lacking in umbrage.
That was, until she came upon the yellowblood. She was tinkering with something, hands flashing as tools moved this way and that. Zeylla recognized the machine she was working on from a manual she had read once, and she decided to take up residence in a small corner of shade to the left of her new specimen, and watched as the troll worked on her tinkertoy machine. Of course, the heat was still lingering on the edges of her shady sanctuary and she still felt edgy- her jitteriness was only minimally eased by the interesting mechanical-savvy troll-, so she couldn't help but mentally gauge how well the yellowblood was doing at repairing(she wasn't actually even sure what the troll was doing, but she assumed it was repair work) her machine.
She figured she could fix it better herself.
Honestly.
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Posted: Mon Aug 20, 2012 9:07 am
Minist chewed the inside of her cheek as she looked over what she had to work with. She had just decided to take a walk around town when this little number had caught her eye. Someone was throwing out a perfectly good pillar drilling machine! Well, O.K., it wasn't perfectly good. It had some serious jamming problems and it looked like some of the wiring was fried. Still, she could definitely use a number like this for her own projects back at the hive. It was being thrown out anyway, so no one would mind if she took it herself. Of course she had to fix it up some before figuring out how to haul it back home.
With her tools splayed out in the sand Minist had taking off most of the protective walling around the unit, leaving the wires and gears bare for all to see. It looked like she may need to solder some of these wires. She'd deal with that after she took care of the jamming issue. She'd rather get the brute force out of the way before dealing with the more delicate problems. She might have to dismantle some more of this machine to be able to find/reach the clogged area.
Out of the corner of her eye Minist saw a figure slinking towards a shady corner. Straightening up a bit she turned and blinked at the stranger. She didn't look comfortable at all, but she was watching Minist sternly. Hey, what was her deal? Minist wasn't doing anything wrong. This was being thrown out, no one would care if she dissected it. "Uh. . . Can I help you?" she questioned as her eyes flickered back to the driller. Hm, maybe she should detach the drill and take a look up in the shaft. Wait, if she did that she have to disconnect those wires up top so she wouldn't get tangled up. No, no, she should inspect the gears first because that would be simpler.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 2:05 pm
Zeylla imagined, as she stood there in silent regard, that this yellowblood was perhaps some higherblood's abettor- maybe abused or ignored, forced to do all kinds of boring work fixing beacon sockets and wall plugs. Why, if that was case, then her excitement over this machine she was fixing could be explained as a chance to show how really amazing she could be at fixing things. It was actually a good idea for a story... Perhaps she would have some type of dark rom with her higher up; slaving away and trying to prove she was the better of the two while he(or she?) laughed and mocked the yellowblood for her pathetic nature- never knowing that his(her) apprentice was actually a highly apt mechanist.
Maybe there was a pale pal who cheered her on? Urged her to prove her worth as well. Zeylla wondered on what color of blood that troll may have. It was always such a dangerous, delicious thing to think about, blood colors. So forbidden by her lusus, it was like a terrible, horrible fantasy to think about the colors all other trolls flashed so happily on their clothin--
"Uh...Can I help you?"
Zeylla was pulled quite quickly from her thoughts by the sound of a voice, and she let her eyes focus on the yellowblood more clearly as her conscience came back to reality.
"You seem to be having some troubles," she stated calmly, curious to see if this poke would upset the yellowblood. That would only help prove her theory of "UNDERDOG MECHANICAL GENIUS", obviously.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 2:32 pm
"Trouble? No. I mean, yeah, this thing is busted, but I just need some time to work with it." Minist said before turning back to the drill and running her fingers over the gears, smearing them with grease. Whatever, just ignore that troll, continue working. However, as she poked at the greasy teeth of the gears she could still feel the eyes of the hemoanonymous troll on her. It made her skin crawl. Finding a gear that refused to budge she reached for her tools and said over her shoulder, "If you wanna help I can tell you right now I don't need it. What would really help me is if you would quit staring at me. I'm trying to concentrate here." While she wasn't particularly icy in her delivery she was quite firm. Busy body trolls hovering around were always annoying. There wasn't much to see here so move on and leave her to her work.
Dislodging the gear she took a look at it in her hand before tossing it it onto one of the metal plates she had already removed. It looked like there was a build up of sand back there. Of course, when was the last time anyone cleaned this thing? You'd think living in the desert trolls would learn to clean out there machines more often. With brows furrowed she reached in and started scraping at the grease coated sand clump with her fingers. It felt slimy and gritty all at the same time, a strange combination that caused her to make a face of disgust as she pulled her hand back out and wipe in on her shorts.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 2:59 pm
Zeylla hid a small, knowing, slightly vicious smile with a duck of her head as the mechanist-to-be grouched over her comment. Yes, this was only building on her theory! The story was unfolding in her head, and she couldn't help but continue to watch as the yellowblood touched the gears ever so thoughtfully. She poked and prodded the tines and cogs, grease smearing her shorts as she thought things over.
Her next comment was unexpected, and Zeylla furrowed her brows just enough to show displeasure to the trained eye, the rest of her face remaining stock still. While less pleasant, and definitely with more firmness then previous dialogue, this only continued to prove the greyblood's point. Her specimen was pushing help away, perhaps trying to prove how great a mechanic she was. And obviously she disliked being watched.
Sadly, Zeylla didn't care what she liked or didn't like. She had found a nice spot of shade and a good story(troll) to watch. She wasn't going to move until she wanted to. "I highly doubt me watching you would affect your judgement and ability," she spoke slowly, calm and unhindered by the rudeness of her quarry. "So I think I will stay here," there was firmness in the finish, to mimic the yellowblood. (Perhaps to prod her into further expressing her personality? It would only aid Zeylla's story in the end to be more expressive.)
She noticed the face the yellowblood made as she pulled her hand from the gears, and noted the look as one of repulsion. Obviously, she was not a fan of unpleasant textures. "Perhaps," she said softly, as if attempting to give some sort of cordial advice...in reality she just knew what was best, as always, "using a cloth would keep you from feeling such unpleasantness. Only as an observation, since you don't need any help, correct?"
Oh, she would learn much about this troll. And the little yellowblood wouldn't even know!
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 3:35 pm
The yellowblood tensed and rolled her eyes as the other troll stated she had no intentions of leaving. Great. What on Alternia did this troll want? Did she just want to bug her? Probably, it wasn't that uncommon for trolls. Just ignore her, Minist. she told herself as she continued with her work.
She had to hold in a sigh as the troll spoke up again. Picking some of the greasy sand out of her nails she turned towards her and said, "Well now, I don't have a cloth, and you're right. I don't need any help, thanks." Turning back to the task at hand she shot her a disapproving glare. Stupid troll, keep your thoughts to yourself. She didn't need any of your sugary sass.
Blowing some hair out of her eyes she finished scrapping out the gritty goop and left many black smears over her shorts. Bending down she picked up the discarded gear and shoved it back into its slot, banging it with her tools upon completion with a smile. One problem down. She shot another glance towards the troll with the peculiar horns. Take that! She did it just fine without you and your advice. You and your stupid horns weren't needed!
Still smiling to herself she traded for a pair of wire clippers and moved over towards a mass of wires that needed to be removed so she could get deeper inside the machine. Picking through the colored strands she began her pruning, smearing some more grease and dulling the bright colors.
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 10:13 pm
Zeylla made a small noise in her throat, as close as she might come to a laugh, as the grease monkey glared at her and her tone turned snippity and just generally irritated. It was funny, some trolls might stand up and chase her off, threaten her with violence or at least throw something at her. This one just ignored her though, preferring to get back to her work.
That would be dedication. It was a trait Zeylla appreciated in trolls, a certain sense of loyalty that reminded her of her own sturdiness. So, she let the little yellowblood dig her hands back into the mess without another peep. She was off, back into her own little world, when the banging of metal on metal brought her back. There was a smile on the girl's face, and Zeylla just managed to glimpse the look sent her way. It seemed to say, 'HA! Proved you wrong!'. So much pride in such a young troll(as if she was much older herself!).
The glance urged Zeylla to make another move, like it was a game of chess, and as her new-found entertainment moved to work with wire clippers, she glanced around, as if looking for-- Aha! There, on top of a garbage receptacle, limp and sad and just a little dirty, was a torn piece of cloth. Zeylla squinted as she stepped into the moon's light, and stalked over to the cans and picked up her prize.
"This might be useful, perhaps if you had looked around before starting this, you might have not ruined your clothing," she almost-teased (because Zeylla never truly teased, it was too playful), "Perhaps you can use it for next time, or maybe even clean off those wires so you can see the colors clearly," she was crouched down now, looking at the grease-smeared wires as if disappointed that the yellowblood hadn't thought of this step herself.
"Not...that I'm helping, or anything."
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2012 10:43 pm
She froze. Shoulders tense, clippers held up to a wire without clipping it, a breath held in. The only part of her body that moved were her eyebrows, which were twitching madly. Pent up energy leaking out in twitchy spasms through the only crack in her composure. It was quite clear to anyone with half a thinkpan that Minist was boiler trying its hardest not to explode in a blast of fiery hot steam, a dam doing its best to hold back the torrential flood. Somebody might have thought she died standing up if it wasn't for the jitterbug her eyebrows were preforming.
This. . . This troll was such a pest. Not only did she insinuate that she wasn't observant by pointing out the cloth she could have used, not only did she mock what a mess she was (like she cared!), not only did she now get in her space when she had made it clear she didn't want her company, not only was she insinuating that Minist couldn't find the right damn wires and fix this god damn drill, but she had the nerve to say that she wasn't trying to "help". Oh, she knew exactly what she was doing. Throwing the wire clippers to the sand in a flash she jerked her head to glare at Zeylla, eyebrows twitching sporadically still.
"I don't give a <********> about the grease on my clothes or on these god damn wires. I don't need you shitty little cloth so if you would kindly back the ******** up out of my workplace I can continue my repairs." she snarled. Oh there were some other things she wanted to say. Perhaps say was the wrong word, scream would be better. However she was keeping all that energy locked up inside, still. She wasn't going to let herself blow up like a firework. She prided herself on getting under the skin of others so she couldn't bare to go completely off the handle when this troll had , admittedly, barely done anything to her. She was currently having an inner battle of pride. Pride over her mechanical work and not needing advice from anyone, and pride over her ability to get others to blow up while she would just laugh.
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Posted: Sun Sep 30, 2012 9:05 pm
An eyebrow rose, an arch of amusement upon a stone cold face. It seemed she had struck a nerve with the yellowblood. Why, her spasming face muscles told the whole story. Perhaps if she was a more cheerful troll, Zeylla might have had to contain a smile, but as it was, she was just find with her eyebrow raised.
Her eyes dropped to the wire clippers as Minist told her off, and when she was done with all her snarling and grousing, Zeylla stood and dusted her hands off on her aerated wear, and took a single, terribly small step back. Then crouched back down so she had view to watch her specimen go back to working on the machine. She had gotten what she wanted for now; the outbreak of anger had entertained her, but she wasn't done yet...and it would be stupid to bother the yellowblood into leaving completely. Why, then Zeylla would be left all alone and bored and hot and uncomfortable again.
"My apologies," she hummed, to make it clear that she wished her companion to get back to work, but not that she actually apologized. Seeing as she had done nothing wrong, besides try to be...helpful.
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Posted: Mon Oct 01, 2012 8:28 am
That condescending face, the fake attempt to get out of her space, the fake apology. Suddenly something clicked in Minist's thinkpan. Of course she was doing it on purpose. She already knew this and played the game herself, but now it finally clicked. She could play too. She had been so focused on her work that she hadn't even considered playing along, she just wanted to be left alone. Now, though, now a devious plan was forming as her brows ceased their spasms and she crouched down to retrieve the wire clippers. She could up the ante. She was going to throw a little black flirting into the mix.
Oh she was still angry, that never stopped being a thing that was true, but she could work with that. Oh yes, she would turn this little encounter around. She wasn't going to let herself be bested so easily. Sure, she had a bit of slip-up early on in the game, but she hadn't begun to play yet. The second half was going to be different. The refs would need a measuring device of some kind to see how far ahead she'd get and this sports analogy is getting a bit off track. Time to get her head in the game back on track flirting~
Turning back to the machine she tried to release the tension she was holding in her muscles. Snipping a wire she growled, "You sure do seem eager to watch what I'm doing. Trying to learn something, o' helpful one?" Pulling aside a mess of freed wires she shot her a look and continued, "You obviously can't be bothered to get your pretty little self dirty, all covered up and trying to protect me from grime. I bet you don't even know the difference between a Phillips and Frearson screw drive." Reaching up inside she was able to get half her arm swallowed up by the machine. She she pulled it back out she held another gooey, gritty mess. With a smirk she flicked a bit of this on the other's coat.
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Posted: Thu Oct 04, 2012 10:57 pm
Zeylla liked her clothing, it was comfortable and fit just for her. It was her special little gift to herself and when the yellowblood flicked a glopping glob of gloop at her, the greyblood couldn't help but flinch away from it and make a face as a spot brushed her clothing. It only took a moment to regain her composure though, and Zeylla carefully rubbed at the oil with her rag, concealing her irritation as the spot merely spread and went from spot to smudge to smear. Gog damn it all.
Not that the clothing ordeal had kept her from remembering the yellowblood's tease, and after scooting back just a step(to keep out of oilglobbing range), she replied, "I don't need to tell you what I know and don't know, because I already know that I know more than you do," because she knew what the yellowblood was doing. She saw it in her eyes and her smirk, the way she spoke now was sweeter, in a black kind of way. And that was exciting, this was real entertainment right here; prime selection and it was all Zeylla's.
"Either way, I feel you will be the one to learn something here, my messy, little yellowblood,"
Let the games begin!
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Posted: Fri Oct 05, 2012 8:56 am
Know, know, know. She was saying that a lot. It was starting to sound like a silly word. Know. Know, know! Minist had to stop herself from just standing there and saying the word over and over in her thinkpan. Getting back to the task at hand she narrowed her eyes at the grey clad stranger. So, she felt like she was the brains of this duo, huh? We'll see about that! Turning back to the machine she reached inside once more to clear out more of the filth and said, "Seeing as how you just can't seem to pry yourself away from me you might as well share you vast knowledge. Please, do enlighten me, o' wise one!" The venom was clear in her words as she removed more of the sticky mess clogging up the gears.
She harbored a side glance at the other troll as she picked up her tools and positioned herself below the drill bit. She was starting to get herself under control after her littler outburst which was for the best. She didn't need to be furious and then make a mistake in front of this troll, especially when she was dealing with the actual drill part. Plus as the anger slowly subsided she'd have clearer thought to come up with better flirtatious quips. The other girl seemed to be playing along with her to a point, even going so far as to call Minist her "little yellowblood". Perhaps this troll wasn't quite as stuffy as she had originally assumed? She could work with that.
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Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2012 3:28 pm
Zeylla gave a small snort of dry enjoyment and hid her ever growing smile (could the corners of lips upturned be counted as such?) with a tuck of the chin. Pry herself away, that was a good way to put it. Yes, Zeylla was quiet difficult to get rid of when she wished to be somewhere. It was something was proud of, her sense of assertive control. She liked being behind the circular steering device, giving the orders- not taking the demands.
So she said nothing to Minist about sharing her knowledge. If the yellowblood wished to be snappy, she would just sit here and watch for a bit. Not that the greyblood was upset, she just knew that there was a time to poke and a time to wait. Right now was the time to wait; the yellowblood would need time to cool before they could stoke the fire of this enemosity(oh, that was a good one. She would remember that for later...enemosity...) any more.
For a moment, there was just the tink of tools on metal, and the wind humming down the streets like a gift from above. It cooled Zeylla's hot carapace, and she felt her body become ever so slightly more relaxed. She let her eyes drift about the area now, soaking in the color of the buildings, the shade and the light and the movement behind windows. She memorized it perhaps for her books or just because, either way it was tucked away in a small box for later before her eyes drifted down to the troll again.
"Tell me your name," the demand was random, but perfect. Zeylla would rather have a name to list her new toy by then just yellowblood or something, and it would perhaps spark up another conversation, "Unless it is too hard for one like yourself to multihandle speaking and working, it's quiet normal, honestly," she added after a pause, leaving her tone up in the air so he couldn't be told if she was serious or prodding again.
It was much more fun that way, honestly.
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Posted: Thu Nov 08, 2012 4:01 pm
Minist didn't mind the silence. She took it as a victory. The stranger had nothing to retort with, meaning Minist had prevailed. As Zeylla played her little waiting game Minist focused on her work, the anger subsiding as she worked with the machine. It always felt so good to work with her tools and open machines to see their precious inner workings. She would have considered herself a mechanical mortician if morticians were a thing in troll society. Carefully removing the drill-bit she poked around in the cavity and removed more gritty goop and a small rock. Now she felt as though all the blockages in the machine had been removed so she set to work carefully putting everything back in place, not even paying the other troll any attention. Minist could wait just as long as she could. She wouldn't blink first.
She was just getting ready to take a closer look at the electronics when the silence was finally broken. Slowly she turned to look at Zeylla, brows raised slightly. Oh really now, that was the best she could come up with? That was rather pathetic. "Minist," she said as she turned back to paw through the wires, finding the ones she had already clipped and following their paths with her fingers. "And you?"Minist had to hide a smirk as she retrieved her soldering gun. This troll had opened the door to prying questions. It was her own fault whatever happened next. Minist had ever intentions of barging through that open door and snooping in ever corner as obnoxiously as she could. Someone who hid their blood color usually didn't care for questions.
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Posted: Sun Dec 02, 2012 10:42 pm
Minist. It was a name that rolled easily off the tongue, and she remembered it for later. It was always good to have some fine names to pick from when writing her manuscripts. Maybe she also remembered it because she planned to visit this yellowblood once more. Maybe, but she wasn't saying anything about it. Instead she sat in the silence left after Minist's own question, and pondered giving an answer. Usually when asked, she would either dodge the question or give a false name. It kept busybodied trolls out of her busniess, and left less loose ends for her to deal with later. But the yellowblood was a character, unique and quirky (at least on the outside, perhaps she was less so on the insides) and maybe she deserved a real answer.
"Zeylla," a small gift to give, but sharing had never been Zeylla's strong point. She after answering, she stood and fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, because it always felt like she was breaking a rule by offering her name, or giving any semblance of interest in a troll. Shrehe'sem would be rolling over in her resting room if she knew all the little things Zeylla had done- but she would rather not think about that. It made the greyblood's guts sick. Either way, it wasn't as if giving a name could give anything else away.
But to make sure, she attempted to divert the conversation from more questions about herself, asking, "What will you do with this when you're done tinkering?" It was a weak deflection, but proper in it's execution, and she knew it was better then most would do on the fly. She was always better then others, as it was.
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