What Would Your OC Give the OC Above You?

_{Happy page 69 yall} 

“I have to go on a leave soon,” Xander said. He thumbed his tea-mug. His eyes were totally locked on his fingers and avoided the other’s gaze.
“Back to Mosch. For some Court business. It will be long days filled to the brim with meetings,” Xander said. He let out his breath. Then eyed Brown opposite of him.
“It’s common for Courtmembers, especially those from far from Mosch, to have an accomplish. A traveling-buddy, so to speak,” Xander said. He set down his tea-cup.
“Roswell can’t leave Drakenburg. Not without losing his gespan but... You madam. You can. So,” Xander said. He rubbed the rose-hip tea from his fingers and reached for his coat. The singer plucked two train tickets out of his inner pocket and presented one to her.
“I’ve heard you’re a Starq madam. A Möshiet even... I was wondering if you want to tag along with me, madam.”  
Xander carefully placed the ticket on the coffee table between them and shoved it in her direction. “I.. Understand if this takes you by surprise. You’ve been away from Starqbreek for so long, there surely must be a reason why,” Xander mused out loud. The singer softly scratched his mutton-chop beard.
“But maybe... You’re eager to return. If only for a brief moment.” Xander eyed her. Hopefull.

“Roswell has told me about your Starq lessons. I’m advanced in Starq and it’s Roswell’s native language but... Maybe returning to Starqbreek, if only for a few days with me, sparks some memories of the language.” He smiled. Carefully. As he knew he was walking on thin ice.
“Besides, I’d really appreciate the companionship,” he said. Xander picked his cup back up and took a sip of his rose-hip flavored tea.
“We’d share the same hotel. But not the same room. We need to travel together by train, so I guess that’s maybe a hustle you need to face madam,” he said. Xander chuckled.
“I offer you a way back to Mosch... But you nééd to stomach my companionship for an entire train ride. Which would take roughly 4 to 5 days. Depending on if it snowed or not.”
Xander sat down in his cup again. Then poured a spoonful of honey into his already sweetened tea.
“I won’t take it as a personal attack if you refuse my lady. It’s your choice. I can only respect it.” 

--

“O-Oh thank you sir I..” he grimaced as he held the knife lightly in his hands. His other hand reached for his own throat, thumbing the white scar that snaked from left to right. Xander swallowed. Uneased.
“I’m phobic for knives.” An awkward pause. “S...So you can have it back. If you like, sir.”

Vladimir studied Xander with a expression of deep thought  " here take zhis, I got lots of zhem anyway " the spy handed Xander a butterfly knife 

" I do hope you put it to a responsible use "

After a few moments of staring at the supposed spy and scowling, Black muttered, “You know, you kind of seem like a fucking dumbass. Get everything you want, then run away from it? I would have loved to be spoiled, instead of the fucking hell that I got…” He huffed a bit. He couldn’t make himself too mad, though. Spies were cool. Something that he would have wanted to be when he was younger. A spy infiltrating enemy areas, taking down organized crime rings by pretending to be one… Alas, there was no pretending on his side of things.

After a few moments, he opened his suit and fumbled around in the hidden pockets inside. He then pulled out an open box of band-aids. He muttered, “Oh, I forgot I even had these…” He had only used one bandage inside, and that was because his not-mom had a cut on her hand. “You can have these,” he said as he placed them inside the hand of the spy, “I’d prefer to bleed out than to use these stupid things anyway.”

Black really was exhausted. He needed some coffee, and soon. If he wasn't caffeinated, he was so fucking tired. "What?" Black barked somewhat at the dog in front of him, a bit more rudely than what he had intended. Once the gift card was handed to him, though, he just... Stared at it for a few moments. He then whispered to himself, "Oh my fucking God, it is getting noticeable..." before taking the card. "Thank you, I guess... You can come if you want. I'm fine, though. Just... Just don't worry about it."

     "You." Zack stood besides Phillip, staring at him intensely. "You got me a hot coffee the other day when there was a cold front. You bumped into me, too." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, handing it to the young man. "Here. As thanks." He didn't bother explaining it any further, expecting the card to do it for him. It was a thank you card, and inside was a gift card for the nearby coffee shop.
     As Phillip looked at it, Zack's eyes drifted to the ears. The... soft-looking ears. He wanted to touch them, or at least feel the fur, but resisted, and focused back on the man in front of him. Maybe he could find a way to get him to do some modelling for him. His height or not, Phillip was still a dog, and adorable in the vampire's eyes. Surely his blog would agree.

      "Excuse me," H'elah said softly in an attempt to capture Zack's attention, offering him a warm, friendly smile. "I apologise if this is perhaps bold of me to say, but it looks to me as if you've had a difficult life," she continued in a gentle, mellifluous tone. The woman extended a slender arm, proffering a small, rectangular piece of parchment no larger than the size of a card to the man. On it, written in extravagant golden calligraphy, read...

Troupe Namele

One (1) VIP viewing.

Presented by H'elah Sohn, Terpsichorean.

     "Should you ever find yourself in need of a time to relax, please come pay Troupe Namele a visit," H'elah elaborated as the parchment was taken. Her hands folded back in front of her, one clasping within the other as they came to rest on her thighs. "We perform a special dance steeped in history, one called Kriegstanz. I think you may find it will stir your heart to happiness," she continued with a jovial bounce of her heels, sending the myriad golden baubles on her dancing attire into a fit of jingling. The fluffy ears atop her head waggled with enthusiasm. "Now more than ever, people need reasons to be happy and smile, and I believe that Troupe Namele be able to do just that for you."

     H'elah smiled brightly as she concluded her performance. She beamed with pride at Dolores's response and offered her a curtsy.

     "I understand," she reassured the older woman. "Kriegstanz, and by extension Troupe Namele's performances, aren't something that everybody is familiar with," the Miqo'te continued. She nodded with understanding as Dolores elaborated upon the differences between the Kriegstanz and traditional ballroom dancing, simply remaining silent. The disparity between the two types of dances was great, but there was no reason to refute or argue the points. After all, her performances were considered exotic. The dances of the Near East were a spectacle for many people, as well as entirely alien.

     "The fact that you enjoyed it is more than payment enough," H'elah said with a mellifluous titter. "I wouldn't ask anything of you. Troupe Namele simply wants to put smiles on faces and joy in hearts, and it seems that I've managed to do just that," she continued, watching as the other woman shuffled away to her refrigerator. A soft, wistful sigh blew quietly through her nostrils as Dolores began regaling her with the climate and the challenges that came with it. "I do," H'elah answered plainly to affirm her familiarity with the cold, as the elderly woman rifled through the refrigerator. She stood and waited patiently for her to finished her rummaging. As Dolores returned with the soup and offered it to her, the Miqo'te graciously accepted it with a bow.

     "Thank you very much," H'elah stated with another of those bright, cheery smiles. "I'll be sure to pass along your appreciation for our art, and I'm certain that everyone in the troupe will be grateful for your kind and thoughtful gift," she continued as she lowered herself into respectful bow. "I'd ask no more of you, nor would I expect it. It's as I said, your enjoyment of the performance was more than payment enough. You have my and Troupe Namele's appreciation for your generosity," H'elah concluded as she rose to stand up straight again. Regarding Dolores with another appreciative smile, the Miqo'te held the bowl close to her figure as she departed to return to her troupe.

As soon as the music ceased, Dolores was quick to clap her hands and chirp, "Oh, miss! That was quite the lovely performance! I've never seen anything like it, really!" And she meant it!

It was just a shame that the older woman meant that in the most basic way possible, as she then stood up to her feet and hummed, "To be fair, though... The only sorts of dances that I've seen beforehand tended to be of the ballroom type. I mean, as in the sense that..." She paused to carefully spin her hand about, in what seemed like a loose interpretation of a spin. "... They're quite formal. There's more emphasis on the feet and arms than, say, the torso." That's one way to put it! But again, it wasn't like Dolores knew better, and that was for the best. She was so intrigued that it might as well have been cruel to rip the wool away from her eyes... Right?

"I wish that I had something to adequately repay you, miss," she then babbled with a sheepish smile, "I mean... I have money, and I have supplies, but they're not much. I'm sure you're used to luxury, too, and I'm not sure if that's what I really have..." In fact, the most expensive item in Dolores's home turned out to be the refrigerator, and Dolores sure as fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck wasn't going to try dragging out a refrigerator for the other party anytime soon. Imagine all the strain that would've placed on the old woman's arms!

Actually... Does she even want something like that? Dolores pondered to herself with a frown- Wait a minute. Dolores. Honey...

The elder then perked herself up as she chirped, "Actually, give me a second!", and trotted towards the kitchen. Oh? "I know that it's not that warm around here," Dolores admitted through what was probably the worst underestimate ever, "so it's always good to take every opportunity to keep that gullet of yours at least tepid. The cold is quite unforgiving sometimes... Though I suppose that you know this, mm?" Punctuating her words every so often was the opening and closing of doors as she filed through each cabinet in her kitchen, before... It eventually stopped at the refrigerator, with one of the doors being swung wiiiiiide open as Dolores then stuck her head into it and started to fumble through the contents there.

This nonsense lasted for a few seconds before she eventually pulled out a bowl of soup. It was admittedly cool, but at least it looked appetizing?

It also happened to complement Dolores's somewhat cheeky - though still obviously mousy - expression while she explained, "It's not much, but... If you want, you can take it for yourself. Or take it back for your troupe later on. It boils quickly and warms the stomach! I don't know much about the flavor, but... It's more focused on the heat than the palate, and I heard that the food tends to taste more bland on the mountains anyhow." She paused to chuckle before taking a step towards the dancer and holding out the bowl, covered with a thin layer of plastic wrap, to her. "I do apologize if you wanted more, by the way. Just know that it was an honor for you to perform, mm? You don't have to do anything else. I'll, uh, take care of everything from there, miss."

I'll try my best to do a follow-up for NP if I have the time!!

"Mam'm!" He had finally caught up to her, noticing the chain of her keyblade. He had happened to buy an extra plushie charm on accident, and was hoping for someone that could use it in some way.

"I know this is going to sound weird.... But i want you to have this!" He smiled, taking the keychain out of his bag with his tail and handing it to her. "I accidentally bought two.... I hope you don't mind....!" While he had spotted her in the store, he had also picked up a sewing kit, taking it out. "Oh, and i thought you might like this too!" 

Black glanced down at the… Thing in front of him. Black did not know nor understand what the hell an Algebralien was, but he liked Varrho. He seemed small and nice. And Black was an edgelord and a contract killer. This'll go fine, right?

It did seem like it would go just fine, however, as Black simply shrugged and said in a way that was meant to sound nice, but still had some of his usual agitated tone, "Out of curiosity, what even are you? I've never seen a ball with a tail and legs walking around Prismatic before, so…" For a few moments, Black stared off, then said, "Actually, can you take this?" He half-unbuttoned his suit, then took out a small husky plush from one of the hidden pockets. He placed it in front of Varrho, and said, "It's very soft. I, uh… Accidentally bought it, so someone should probably take it." Truth was, he didn't buy the husky plush accidentally. He had bought it for himself to have a stuffed animal to sleep with, but alas… He once again had a moment where he panicked about being childish and decided to give away yet another item that could have helped him cope. Varrho didn't need to know that, though, right? All he needed to know was that Black had bought a stuffed animal "on accident."

“I know I’ve hired you to do my dirty work,” the gold merchant mused. He wobbled around on his feet, looking the assassin over. “I mean my laundry.”

Then laughed as he took over the laundry-bag of the older man, opened it, and peeked inside. In it were several of his shirts, pressed, steamed, and damping of lavender.
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to pay you for your deeds right?” Jan-Paul set down his bag. Plucked a pressed shirt out of it and rubbed his thumbs over the soft textile.
“A job well done deserves more than praise and coins. Isn’t that right, Black? Black was your name right?” Jan-Paul’s ears twitched. “Well..I’ve decided that you are my néw project.” Jan-Paul beamed the other a big smile. Expecting to see a smile in return.
“They call me Jan-Paul the generous for a reason,” he said. Making a dismissive flicker with his hands. (Unfolding his shirt in the process).
“It's all An eye for an eye in your business. So..” Jan-Paul allowed his words to linger just a wee bit too long.
“I decided to give you clothing in return. clothes, for clothes and such,” Jan-Paul stated. He folded the shirt back up and dropped it on the bag.
“Stay there.”
He turned around and opened his clothing-cabinet. The young gold merchant shoved some of his winter clothing, heavy cloaks, thick padded vests and fur, aside. Till he found what he was looking for. A coat. A heavy weight thing, padded and decorated with fur.
“I had it custom made for you,” Jan-Paul said as he returned to Black. Showing him the coat. “I figured you’re a bit taller then me. But I hope I guessed the measurements right.” Jan-Paul mused.
“We can’t have you kill people in that outfit. It's old,” he said as he draped the heavy but warm coat over the contract-killer. “You’ll freeze to death before you can even wipe out... Whatever you use to do your dirty-deeds,” Jan-Paul shook his head.
“Unacceptable.”

--

Jan-paul's 'straight chuckle ' oh no I'm in danger

  AND I  SOB

It was a fairly remote location, with the tree Caelestis had been leisurely sitting underneath overlooking a downwards-sloping hill, and the scenery of a distant meadow beyond. While fooling around with his leaves, forming various objects before unraveling the closely entwined leaves and creating something else in its place, he looked up for a tinge of extravagant deep teal and bright red hair to briefly catch his eye. Is that…? He stood up from where he had been sitting, absentmindedly pocketing his most recent creation into the opening of his shirt. A bit impractical not possessing any actual bags or pockets at hand, but it wasn't something he had found an excessive need for yet either. 

"Well, it seems I needn't wait for another feast to encounter you again," Caelestis said cheerfully once approaching closely enough to ensure that it was, indeed, Jan-Paul—and with a canvas, it seemed? How curious. Judging from the other's reaction, he wondered if it was something he wasn't supposed to have seen. Paying it no mind for now, he continued, "A splendid thing, as I've had a terribly difficult time getting you off my mind ever since, and I'm certain the wait would have been only more difficult to bear." It was true, actually. And impressive, really, just how effectively Caelestis had been won over by the endearing mess of a man. He almost regretted not blowing a kiss as they had parted before, although perhaps that would have been a bit too forward at the time. 

"Oh," remembering the item currently on his person. What convenient timing. "And while I'm uncertain as to the value it may hold to such a prestigious gold merchant as yourself…" He paused to briefly reach inside his shirt before taking out a gold rose. A bit oddly textured, with remaining textures of the leaves it had been formed out of still faintly prevalent along the otherwise lifelike petals and stem, but still almost unnaturally intricate for its material. Handing it to Jan-Paul, he suggested, "Consider it a token of my appreciation for the wonderful dance and delightfully enjoyable chat." He paused before shortly adding, "Or… possibly a bit more, as well, if you'd like." The celestial then turned around to return to the distant tree with a brief wave, intending to allow Jan-Paul to continue in peace with whatever he had been heading into the area to do. Painting, he could only assume at this point.

oh damn

     The silent prince stayed still, Caelestis still in his arms after falling on top of him. His expression was still very murderous, but it grew even more so when the animals were mentioned. Where had the celestial even come from? Was he stalking him? Stalking merely to taunt him and his animals? Or was it to throw another lemon at him?
     Typical. He was just another toy to this one; a stray animal to follow around and coo, but turn his back to when any affection was returned. En narrowed his eyes. He'd given him a warning, and he thought he'd made it clear. Was it that Caelestis didn't understand him?
     For a second, En's expression softened. The hatred in his eyes lightened to bemused. He pulled Caelestis closer very, very slowly, and very, very gently.
     Then dropped him.
     He didn't care whether his warning was understood or not.
     With a SCHIIING!! His two swords were unsheathed. It was clear that there was something he really wanted to give the other, whether he wanted it or not.

You can reply to him, his good self, or his older self!

Carmine grinned at his friend after he had finally caught sight of him. If he could have sung in the real world, he likely would have happily sung simply because En was here, but alas, he didn’t have the organ to do his singing or clicking outside of the Headspace. Not like that mattered, though, because he still scrambled up to En with his head slightly tilted and a goofy grin still on his face (despite the strange things that stranger had told him). After a few moments, he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, wrote something down, then handed it to En.

Hello, friend! Are you busy? I wanted someone to talk to, if you don’t mind and you’re not busy. I also have something to give you.

Once En was done reading, Carmine pulled out a bag of peanut butter and chocolate cookies and handed them to the man in front of him. He then grabbed the paper, wrote some more, and then handed it back.

I made a lot of these cookies earlier today, and I thought you might like some. They’re really yummy, and I made them all myself! 

Also, I just wanted to talk and know you a little better. You don’t have to tell me everything, of course, I’m just curious about you. I don’t really know you that well, you know? If it helps, I won’t tell anybody. Your secrets are safe with me, friend, and I won’t think badly of you, no matter what said secrets are. And I can tell you about myself, too! I think I trust you enough to tell you about my own secrets. I guess I’m somewhat boring, though. Nothing extremely interesting has happened to me beyond things that happened in my childhood and my general identity. It’s up to you, though. You can tell me to shut up and leave you alone if you don’t want to talk.

A man with White hair with top hat with a flower attached to it

Nithun observe his mannerism, because he cannot hear his voice. A bright little soul. He can sense that Carmine's soul doesn't seems completely human either, [Insect type?] Was he also in disguise?

But Carmine is such a bright soul... Nithun always intrigued by the bright ones he doesn't seems to talk much so Nithun is even more curious to see his reactions more

Hm, Roses does looks fits his attires, but perhaps he prefers Nectar like sweets food?

Nithun walks up to Carmine, tilted his head,

"We have never meet before, but I must say, You have a nice taste for your fashion, Roses looked dashing on you. i hope you don't mind having more of them"

Nithun puts his handmade, various color of roses, flower crown on top of Carmine's hat, then He stepped back, looks at his work and nodded in satisfaction

"Mn, perhaps you could tell me more about yourself while i wait for the dawn to come by" Nithun tried offer them a smile but he's not sure if he succeeded "This one' name is Nithun, pleasure to meet your acquaintance" Nithun nodded at the white haired man ...