Phew! The holidays are finally over! Updates should start to get back to normal pace now.
Also, I finally found Zami's character theme; "Cry Cry Blood" by Steel Pulse. Go listen to it!
It took every ounce of Zami's willpower not to reach out and strangle Jumi right then and there. But the words of Mythene and Syrise held him back. Zalu needed to see for himself. Zalu needed to decide for himself. If Zami got in the way now, it would just serve to make Zalu fight the truth more.
"M-My tusk," Zalu mumbled, rubbing the crack, "Ya gone cracked it…"
"I gonna break it off if ya keep whinin' bout it," Jumi grumbled, sipping his beer nonchalantly.
That was the last straw. Zami couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something, he concluded as he dropped his stealth.
He quickly ripped the mug of beer right out of Jumi's hand, making the old man stumble forward in surprise. As he did so, Zami pushed his head forward onto the table as hard as Jumi had done to Zalu moments prior. Maybe a little harder, if the loud cracking noise was anything to go by.
When Jumi looked up furiously, Zami was already gone, stealthed again. Jumi swatted at the air in confusion, and Zami stepped aside easily, grabbing Jumi's arm and twisting it until he heard the telltale pop. As the old troll cried out in pain, Zami tossed him back, knocking Jumi down to the floor.
Zalu, meanwhile, was still nursing his cracked tusk, too caught up in concern over his own appearance to pay Jumi any mind. He only looked over when he heard Jumi cry out, perking a brow in concern.
"What be wrong wit you?" He asked as he looked down, and Jumi just yelled back incoherently, pointing at the empty air.
Both Jumi and Zalu looked about in confusion, unable to see Zami stealthed right in front of them. Zami drew the dagger from his hip and, gripping the hilt tightly, approached Jumi with a cold expression. He didn't care anymore if the old man understood why, or who did it. He just wanted it to be over already.
Yet as he looked down at Jumi, his visage broke as his brow creased. He hesitated, holding the blade over the old man. Jumi looked…pathetic. Sitting there on the floor in pain, hugging his broken arm. Looking around in blind panic, his cracked tusk looking about ready to fall off. It didn't feel…right.
Zami shook his head, forcing the thoughts of pity away. As he did, the little fetish in his hair rattled audibly, alerting both other trolls to his position.
"There!" Jumi pointed, as Zalu hurried to his feet.
Reaching onto the table beside him, Zalu grabbed his mug of beer. He quickly spilled its contents forward in the direction of the noise, soaking Zami in the process. Zami shook off what he could, as fast as he could, but it was no use. They could see him enough to know where to swing. And that's just what Zalu did, with his staff, hitting Zami in the stomach.
Zami hissed in pain, stumbling backwards. He cursed quietly under his breath, pushing himself back into the crowd. Why did he hesitate? He cursed again, lowering his stealth, and pushed ahead through the crowd. He made his way back towards Syrise, who was sitting on the floor in front of her things, with Mythene in front of her, a pair of scissors in her hand. Long strands of white hair littered the floor around them.
Zami stopped when he saw this, looking up to Mythene. Her hair was long hair, which had previously reached below her waist, now only touched her shoulders. It didn't look all that much different, but it was still an unexpected surprise.
"Get a little over excited with your drinking, hm, Z?" Syrise chuckled.
"No jokes," He grumbled, leaning against the wall next to them, "And ya know I don't drink."
"What's all this, then?" Syrise perked a blonde brow, sniffing in his direction, "Trying out a new cologne?"
Zami paused, wiping some beer from his face with the back of his hand, then looked over at her flatly.
"Well what happened then?" Syrise asked as she set down the scissors.
"Don't wanna talk bout it," Zami crossed his arms, looking away.
A moment later, something brushed his face. Zami glancing back over, ready to tell Syrise off, but stopped seeing it was Mythene. She wiped some of the beer from his cheek with a little handkerchief. She glanced at him briefly, but didn't say anything, knowing better than to ask. Even so, she had a knowing look on her face, like she didn't even need to ask. He sighed, hating how she could always tell what he was thinking.
"How you always do dat?" He mumbled, glancing aside.
"Hm? Do what?" Mythene asked as she wiped his chin.
"Dat thing you do," He shrugged, pushing her hand away gently, "Ya know, where you read my mind?"
"I don't," She shrugged, "I read your face."
"My face?" Zami perked an eyebrow, "What'cha mean?"
"It's kind of interesting," Mythene said as she handed her handkerchief over to him, "You hide so much of what you say and do, yet your face usually says much of it for you. And you don't even seem to notice."
"No it don't," Zami scowled, "And no I don't."
Mythene put a hand on her hip, raising a long white eyebrow.
"Really, thero'shan? You can turn invisible, and you're really going to try telling me you don't hide things?"
Zami shrugged, unable to offer any sound argument, and just wiped his face dry. She did have a point there. She always had a point. He hated how she could always do that, too. Always leave him without words.
"Hm?" Mythene tilted her head to the side, "I've been meaning to ask, what is that there?"
She pointed to the fetish tied to his hair.
"Oh, dat stupid thing," Zami growled, reaching up and ripping the fetish out of his hair, "Got me caught in a first place."
"What is it?" Mythene plucked the fetish from his hand, examining it.
"It be a fetish," He shrugged, "Zen'Tabra made it, said it gonna give me somethin' I be needin' real bad."
Zami scoffed, crossing his arms.
"But she wouldn't tell me what it even be, and da dang thing only causin' trouble now."
"Ah," Mythene perked up, "This is Zandali. I remember this character from your name."
"Hm?" Zami perked a brow, "What'cha mean?"
"There's something written on this," She held the fetish out to him, "See?"
"Lemme see dat," Zami took it from her, looking down at it.
He looked down at the characters engraved into the fetish and froze, at once stricken speechless by it.
"What's it say?" Mythene asked, peering down curiously.
Slowly, after a few moments, Zami found he could breathe again. He moved his hands up and tied the little fetish back into his dreadlocks, then looked back at Mythene.
"...Mercy."