>>6064620>annoy the QM into continuing>>6056195>89 vs DC 15>>6056190The prospect of food in the company of a friendly face buoys the brat's spirits immediately. In a little while she's humming tunelessly. A little while more she's singing about "poor little anty, can't find his mommy, sleepy sleepy on the weepwood tree."
You hum along and show her teeth, with that upward turn of the sides of the mouth more usual when you're sucking out a nice marrow. This keeps her singing, which is useful because she's not asking anything, so you don't need to make up lies (it's hard!), but it's so SO annoying!
She doesn't have a lot of breath, so she stops from time to time, but the humming continues, and two breaths later, so does the song.
¶"I have gay shawl, crotchet green and white"
¶"Peony, Peony, gather in the dews"
¶"Milky born is the whoreson's wife"
That last one you liked, talked about warts like grapes growing on his knob, but oh the rest! So yukky and weak and blehh! And she doesn't run out! How many of these does she know??
To stem the flood of this nauseating stuff you start teaching her a few good ol goblin stuff, from your own grubling days.
Songs about diggen an eaten an fightin an killin, and lots lots of raypen and fuggen in between to keep things interesting.
She picks up the words easy enough; they're simple, 's how you know they're good. But she complains a that they're so boring, they only have four sounds (notes she means, but neither you nor her know what "notes" are), and they don't skip, and they don't rhyme, and theyre always bum-bom, bum-bom, bum-bum-bom.
Naturally you defend your choices, a little offended: theys goody songs they are. Good to dig with, good to march with, maybe no fight with because you want your breath, but plenty good for raypen and fuggen. Plup-plup, plup-plup, plup-plup-plup. It's good! It's natural!
The brat disagrees by digging her heels and tearing.
"No! I wanna sing nicer things! No wanna sing your boring songs!"
You make the mistake of telling her that SHE'S a dumdum head, and HER songs are stupid, and she sits down and cries.
Your goblin instincts kick in and your wits wake up. You're still too near to the human roads, you're alone, and dragging her this bawling and screaming you'll be found before morning. The peasants might have DOGS.
Yes you have this dangerous knife from your new Teacher, but still, DOGS.
You lie through your teeth, your eyes, your ears, and your goblin hole: you're sorry (no), shes right (NO), let's keep singing her songs (GEHHH), if we hurry there might still be some mousemeat stews and caasen gum paddies waiting, num num! (STUPID STUPID HUMAN)
She stops crying but looks a little owlishly at you, and you wonder if one of her distant grandkin might be a goblin, and the instincts are kicking in.
"You sing with me," she says, with a happy cunning.
"Waaat?"
"Sing with me or I'm not going! Sing! Peony! Peony! Gathering the dews!"
"gnehhhh...Ho-o-ow
[CONT]
