“Wot’s with the noise?” came a voice not far from her.
She had thought she was left there alone, but now realized there had been someone, or more, nearby her all along.
Charley had not a chance to catch sight of her captor, but if she had, she might have been a little scared by his size and demeanour.
Trolls are unappealingly brutish in nature and form - they perspire onions, and from their noses leaks green snot.
And yet, their ancient torsos still house a beating heart within, which one day shall appeal their lot, and refine to the ways to compassion and love. This troll however, had a long way to go.
Rombardo was a merchant of sorts. His thinking was plain.
Charley sneezed. “There must be pollens in here” she thought to herself ordinarily.
And with that her sense of calmness returned. Yes! the sneeze had cleared her head. All she needed to do was think of the very next thing to bubble, she said to herself. To bubble? No, that can’t be quite right. Fumble.
No, not fumble. What was it she was trying to think of?
Rombardo had sprayed her through the weave of the bag, with an opiate that he carried, which in itself was no more than a breath freshener to his breed, yet had the overwhelming, pacifying, mind-blurring effect on humans. He used it constantly.
- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
She had thought she was left there alone, but now realized there had been someone, or more, nearby her all along.
Charley had not a chance to catch sight of her captor, but if she had, she might have been a little scared by his size and demeanour.
Trolls are unappealingly brutish in nature and form - they perspire onions, and from their noses leaks green snot.
And yet, their ancient torsos still house a beating heart within, which one day shall appeal their lot, and refine to the ways to compassion and love. This troll however, had a long way to go.
Rombardo was a merchant of sorts. His thinking was plain.
Charley sneezed. “There must be pollens in here” she thought to herself ordinarily.
And with that her sense of calmness returned. Yes! the sneeze had cleared her head. All she needed to do was think of the very next thing to bubble, she said to herself. To bubble? No, that can’t be quite right. Fumble.
No, not fumble. What was it she was trying to think of?
Rombardo had sprayed her through the weave of the bag, with an opiate that he carried, which in itself was no more than a breath freshener to his breed, yet had the overwhelming, pacifying, mind-blurring effect on humans. He used it constantly.
- Gabriel Brunsdon, AZLANDER: NEVER ENDINGS: Second Chances
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