This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Violent thoughts and actions, bullying, foul language and general nastiness.

All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear,anger,love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart.

<sup>-Trade XP: (B) +5 Tell a battle story, (B) +5 Exercise to gain strength, (O) +5 Practice speed or strength
- Petals: +20 Thread with a new person, +10 Explore a new territory, +10 Complete a trade-related thread, +20 Meet a new character</sup>

My last interaction had been... interesting. But, time to move on. The tunnels had given way to a black sandy beach where I had run a few laps for a bit, amused by the black sand there. Then, I managed to find my way to the tidepools. It was an interesting place and I found myself intrigued by the small creatures trapped in the small pools of water here. At first, I had decided to work more on my strength, finding large rocks and heavy driftwood to push and pull into a single tidepool. I entertained myself by smashing the shells on a few nondescript (to me anyway) creatures, amused at the way the other creatures in the pool rushed to consume their fallen comrade instead of mourning the loss.

I grew bored of that however, as my muscles began to tire from the exertion of lifting the rocks to smash things with. And so I found a new pool to entertain myself with, laying along the edge and staring in at the inhabitants. I enjoyed watching them scramble when I splashed a paw in the water every now and then. I soon found myself in the company of another, small and red in color. It waved its large pinchers at me as if they were weapons and I couldn't help the wicked smile as I quickly got up from my spot. I took only a moment to find a large rock, one only slightly larger than the circumference of my new little companion. Careful of it's claws, I delicately set the rock on top of it, snickering as his wee little legs gave way under him. He wriggled desperately and I watched, suddenly remembering a time from when I was young.

"This will make you stronger new friend. If it doesn't kill you that is. Why, I remember when I was younger. I got in a fight with a leopard who got his jingles in a bunch because I snagged his food when he dropped it from a tree near where I was bedding. He was much bigger than I was, and that ass decided that I was not worth fighting. Instead, he sat on me, pinning me to the ground until my mother returned. I probably looked a lot like you right now, except pretty. When my momma returned, she just laughed at the man and told him that it was my problem and that I should be the one he took it up with, not her. She made me fight the man, and I lost. But I was stronger for it, you can bet your butt little dude."

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gól um hánum í gaglviði fagrrauðr hani, sá er Fjalarr heitir The hunter walked at a steady clip to the shore. He was metronomic. His mind was at work devising a shape to his life. From time to time he would rest. Then he would continue, inexorable, driven by the same inner lodestone of arctic terns that traveled in broad arcs the latitude of the world, something dark and primitive. Fjalar could be patient. He had a marksman's steadiness. He heaved himself over a lip of rock, the muscles working under his skin like machinery. Someone's voice caught his ear. Young, girlish. "Do you think you could find him again?" he asked. "Do you think you could find him, and would you kill him if you did?" His voice was grainy, cordial. He wore a half-grin, crow's feet bunching around one curious eye, and he asked this question as if asking how she thought the weather was today. @Kolju

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Violent thoughts and actions, bullying, foul language and general nastiness.

All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear,anger,love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart.

A voice interrupted my reverie and I glanced around. When I met his dual colored eyes I couldn't contain the wicked smile that stretched across my face at the thoughts he evoked. He had heard my entire story it seemed, and had such a nonchalant air about him as he inquired for more detail. An excited chill ran down my spine at the sudden sight of him, his words filling me with unexpected glee. I had to look away, my gaze moving back to my red little friend to hide the nearly manic child-like wonder in my eyes. I slowly placed a paw on top of the rock sitting atop the crab, watching with satisfaction as the sad creature's eye bulged out under the pressure of it. A thrilling CRACK could be heard as I pushed down and I titled my head, mesmerized by the sight of the small creatures suffering. When the crab grew still and silent, I absentmindedly answered the man's question, my tone matching his.

"Unequivocally and without hesitation or remorse.

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gól um hánum í gaglviði fagrrauðr hani, sá er Fjalarr heitir The crab could only take so much. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger -- he thought that it was maybe one of the greatest lies ever told. His smile grew, became symmetrical. "Me too." "Not many people would. They'd rather forgive and forget." Often, he'd heard stories about someone being bullied. Name-calling, stealing food, sometimes a direct punch to the face. Others were drawn to the smell of weakness. Then a dog-pile of bodies, knuckles, of sour breath. A petty and small sort of evil. Then Fjalar could ask, why didn't you do anything? Bruised and dazed, they would answer. I couldn't. He would assure them with a paw on their back that they could've. The bonebreaker drew closer. The crab was an orange smear. It had been violently reduced to a two dimensional flatness. "Grace above honor, and whatnot. It's nice to hear a different answer." @Kolju

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Violent thoughts and actions, bullying, foul language and general nastiness.

All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear,anger,love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart.

His words danced in my mind as he drew nearer to me, causing me to shift slightly to face him more directly. "Forgiveness is for the weak, don't you think? This thing for instance... it never could have hurt me, so it probably would have forgiven me for taking it's life. Pathetic really." I looked back to the now dead creature with disinterest. "You on the other-hand, would have no need to forgive me if I crossed you..." My own version of flattery, though it was more blunt observation than it was star-crossed blubbery. I was more than a little intrigued by this man's mind, but I was not the type of girl to gush or fawn over someone. Despite my immediate reaction to the man... which I was reigning in as the conversation continued.

"I go by Kolju... and you are...?"

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gól um hánum í gaglviði fagrrauðr hani, sá er Fjalarr heitir The strange brand of flattery didn't go unnoticed. He shrugged it off with a self-effacing laugh, a shake of his head. Aw, you give me too much credit. It wasn't me, it was all of us. Fjalar lived and breathed bullshit. It was in his name. "Hm. It depends on how I feel." He said, after a moment of thought. He was lying -- he rarely had the time nor temperament to give second chances -- but he liked playing the pragmatist, the devil's advocate from the other side, come to kick up dirt in the argument for no other reason than a childish sort of entertainment. "Manngi." He replied around a frank smile, a smile that belonged on a world-weary pastor, sitting warmly behind thick spectacles. "I go by Manngi." It thrilled him, secretly, that he was building a web of lies, of meaningless white lies with no consequence nor substance, who cares if my name is Dave, or Harvey, who cares about my birthday or what I do for a living, it made him feel insubstantial, but not weak. He was both the disappearing rabbit and the magician. "I have a feeling that I don't see your parents nearby for a reason." Perhaps that was a sore spot. An angry bundle of nerves just waiting to be nudged, a sharp sciatica that would dissolve all remaining etiquette. Any reaction would delight him. @Kolju

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Violent thoughts and actions, bullying, foul language and general nastiness.

All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear,anger,love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart.

A record scratch, and the end of any good blood between the two at the man's words. My eyes glazed over as I returned my paw to the rock I had just used to crush my previous plaything. Perhaps I would chuck it at "Manngi"s big fat head? Instead, I pushed at it, the sound of it scraping through the blood and guts underneath it calming my nerves. I watched intently as it painted a red streak across the ground. It wasn't that I had a particular need to stay calm, to not escalate things... I kept an outwardly calm demeanor anyway.

"Parents... what could they do for me that I can not do for myself?" I didn't need to be told to stay away from the big bad wolf, or things that go bump in the night. I AM what parents warn their kids about. More than that, I was BORED. Batting the rock away from me, I rose to my feet and stretched, clearly ready to move on. Unless of course the man had something interesting to say? My eyes moved to him, unblinking as if looking at some strange creature in a side show, waiting for it to perform.

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gól um hánum í gaglviði fagrrauðr hani, sá er Fjalarr heitir He couldn't help this smile -- a half-inch too wide, a little too much gum, a demented dentist's office smile, vinyl fingers stretching out each red corner. He laughed, a dry sound. "You'd still be under the leopard, except your mom came at the right time." A muscle twinged at his temple. The noisy grind of shell against rock pricked at his ears like an allergy. His eyes, squeezed half-shut by the smile, twinkled with a joyful malice in the dark recesses of his crow's feet wrinkles. "Are you going to hit me?" He asked, almost breathless, not expecting a verbal answer, not expecting an answer at all. The smile continued on his face, long after his facial muscles had begun to tire, to shake under constant exertion, consuming as much energy and oxygen as his heart, or brain, the smile a third organ developing its own consciousness. His eyes said, go on. He liked fighting girls, young women. They were quick to become desperate. They had never known the feeling of being greater on the basic level, in the most basic of definitions. He would not even call it fighting. @Kolju

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Violent thoughts and actions, bullying, foul language and general nastiness.

All the most powerful emotions come from chaos -fear,anger,love- especially love. Love is chaos itself. Think about it! Love makes no sense. It shakes you up and spins you around. And then, eventually , it falls apart.

"You'd still be under the leopard, except your mom came at the right time." I rolled my eyes at the words, he clearly cherry picked from my story. "I mean... being sat on feels a lot better than having the shit beat out of you... or it did back then anyway... it's been awhile, someone will have to refresh my memory some time." The words came calmer than they should have, apathetic even. Part of me looked forward to the day I found myself in a fight, the adrenaline alone would be enough to stave boredom off for awhile.

His next words cause me to turn and face him one more. A glint in my eye as it seemed he had read my mind. "Would you like it if I did? Is that... your thing? Fighting little girls?" The accusation was not veiled at all, her head cocked to the side curiously. Perhaps HE was what parents warn their kids about as well?

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