tiir rumibul; oo1

[contemptibility]

Who: Tiir and vatheon!
When: Early afternoon?
Where: In the forest, near the lake.
Style: [I'm lazy okay]
Status: NEVER MIND this suddenly became open thanks to Cal—

[It might sound a bit odd, coming from someone who tries to be honest, but Tiir hates this curse.

... Granted, he hates most of them, but still.

It might've been fine another time, or under different circumstances. Half the time, Tiir wouldn't care if others could see his thoughts, as he'd already be saying them out loud.

With Guriko to look after, however, it's a different story. He can't afford to let her see.

... And he's not as confident as he was months ago.

Thus, his thought bubble blank as he forces himself to think about nothing, he escapes to his usual hiding place: the forest. That is, the one place he can usually count on to be unoccupied.

... Except for right now, apparently—]

Comments

[lowlands]

[YOUR LOSS, BRO. Though he'd be willing to introduce you for the right price. Cha-ching!!

He stiffens and without moving, glares over his shoulder. Not a huff, not a puff, just a deepp, grave dip of his brow and upper lip. He's not about to give away what he's here for; he'd been careful enough to find a spot where he was sure nobody would spy his bubble, assuming that alone would give it away. He stands up and briskly walks a some paces away without regarding the boy.]

None of your business.

[And he meant that in more ways than one.]

[contemptibility]

[no he's crazy enough already man.]

How very suspicious. I suppose I can asks others the significance of that plant you were thinking of, however.

[lowlands]

[He halts, slowly returning his glare on the stranger again. You wouldn't.]

[contemptibility]

[Sorry, but.]

I can't say I enjoy leaving curiosity unsettled.

[lowlands]

[He turns on his heel to directly face the stranger though he doesn't step closer. The only other movement noticeable is a quick clench of his fists.]

What do you want?

[contemptibility]

An answer to my question.

[lowlands]

Tch.

[He looks over his shoulder. It's obvious. He sees no point in admitting it -- not that it's anything to really admit to, if you ask him.]

[contemptibility]

[Gosh, just be straightforward—]

You're not very good at this, are you?

[lowlands]

[He's too cool for straightforwardness, ok. He clenches one of his fists out of irritation.]

What do you think it is?

[contemptibility]

Well now, if I had an idea, I wouldn't be asking, would I?

[lowlands]

[That he tchs loudly at. Yes, tchs. Tch is so too a verb. And right now the Netherlands is the embodiment of it.]

Then don't ask.

[contemptibility]

[... Okay.]

Oh? That seems rather counterproductive.

[lowlands]

[Not if you're the one answering, Tiir.]

It's not.