towerofanimus | (no subject)

Characters:

dualscars and everyone else.
Setting: The second library, very late at night.
Format: Starting with action brackets, but I'll match.
Summary: Dualscar partakes in an activity that does not involve violence!
Warnings: None, yet.

[those transversing the second library later at night may find the orphaner perusing its shelves, though with little to no apparent criteria for his selections. he looks as he has for the last few weeks: not to his standards of vanity. and with the more recent shenanigans involving nightmarish worlds? a touch on the battered side.

more notable, however, is that with every book deemed unsatisfactory, its chucked unceremoniously to the floor. only, that it isn't: to be thrown into a growing pile of them. one that, in fact, looks like quite a few shelves had gone into its creation. by now, several individuals could sit uncomfortably upon its hard-cover summits.

but if this requires any sort of attention at all, it doesn't show. after all, both holding a book and turning the page with one hand requires more effort than he'd care to admit.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I see.

[She catches the sneer- though just barely- and her lips give the faintest twitch upward. She shifted, rearranged her book on her lap, having turned to face him a little more properly.]

Do your kind consider other species suitable for such?

[Conciliatory interactions as a type of romance was a concept that was strange, in theory, but in acting practice, she could see how some humans might do it without even realizing. She busied herself a few moments with the details of his chestplate, hand moving slowly to get the lines just so, and then considered her sketchbook before raising her gaze to his face, eyebrows tilted upward in what was probably the most blatant display of curiosity she could muster.]

Though I have to wonder how one goes about pursuing something like that.

[still uncomfortable. yes, the great orphaner dualscar made uncomfortable by merely chatting up a human in a book pile. to be honest, he couldn't think of much worse-- the idea itself isn't necessarily the perpetrator, but what other trolls of his status would think. but would they even consider it as he has?

yet another thing she may be able to discern: just how utterly troubled he looks at the moment. but he'd always had that look perfected, whether he was aware of it or not: perhaps the situation just managed to eccentuate it.]

I've never heard 'a it bein' so.

[then again, it wasn't often his species were in situations as such. mostly towards others: it was conquer, enslave, leave. there was little social mingling between. and yes, inwardly to her final words: he wonders it too.]

[She restrains the urge to smirk a little- though only barely- and gives her head the barest of shakes, if only to keep her hair from spilling over her shoulders.]

Then it should not be an issue unless it is made one.

[Except she is fairly certain it could be, if they were really so inclined. But she doesn't say that out loud- knows better than to do so, considering the sort of personality Dualscar has. Sh does take note of that troubled look, however, etches the lines into her memory for future reference, and then continues her sketching once it's smoothed out again. She can't really say much about it on her part- she's not sure about the intricacies of such things are, and she's sure there are many, so not saying anything further in that regard seems to be in her best interests.

She will keep it in mind, however, for if she has a chance to ask someone else to explain the nuances of this moirailleigance to her. It does, at the very least, sound like quite the interesting concept.]

[dualscar makes a noise somewhat close to a 'hmph', though he'd like to think it not nearly as childish. he flips another page in the book, practiced gaze skimming through its wordy paragraphs with ease. normally this would be an effective method of study for him, but he found that not nearly as much as he liked was being absorbed.

he considers chucking the book across the room in a juvenile bout of frustration, and would probably do so if he were alone-- but that has little to do with how much information can successfully be recalled. after a few moments:]

Besides, I wouldn't think you fit for any quadrant.

[oh, even he knows that was pretty fat lie, albeit a necessary one.]

[She honestly has to wonder if he even realizes how very transparent his reactions to things can be sometimes. Considering how he continues on without so much as hesitating, she really doesn't think so. That's alright- she'll let him keep up whatever pretenses he likes.]

Is that right?

[That he even has to say anything about it makes her inherently suspicious of his words, though she realizes better than to make her suspicions audible. She can't resist the teasing it opens him up for, however, and presses the back of her pencil to her lips, pretending thoughtfulness.]

A shame. It would be interesting, I think.