Quoted By:
[b:lit][blue]Winner:[/blue][/b:lit] Seize Control and Fill Damien in
[b:lit][red]20+17 Arcana to explain what occurred under the effect of the diagnostic khemical[/red][/b:lit]
[b:lit][red]9+10 Will Save vs DC 16[/red][/b:lit]
"Oh, I know all sorts of exotic breathing techniques," you chirp. A copy of Hilde's smile makes its way across your face. It's a crude replica that doesn't capture some unspoken facet of your best friend's personality, but the intent is there. Someday you might be comfortable making it your own. Right now, deep inside your heart, the bubbles of amusement that churn obscure the mortification you feel when you tell him something even [i:lit]Hilde[/i:lit] has sworn to secrecy. "Including some that Hilde taught me with the help of a cucumber. Would you like me to show you~?"
There is a sound that fills the air of the tent like the cracking of glass.
You [i:lit]do not hear[/i:lit] your shadow's follow up to that [i:lit]disgusting[/i:lit] proposition. You do not care to hear her protests that she [b:lit][green]was gonna use the vegetable[/green][/b:lit] to show off your "prowess". You do not [b:lit][green]chill out[/green][/b:lit], because this [i:lit]was[/i:lit] a big deal. A major breach of the trust you showed to your shadow when you let her out of the mirror inside of your mind. That information was [i:lit]private[/i:lit]... even if you did want an excuse to show it off.
You refuse to give another inch. Reaching out and taking her by the arm, you rip her away from the reigns of your body with a mighty heave, and throw her back into the mirror. Her arms crossed beneath her naked bosom, she tries using a puppy's pout.
Unfortunately for her, you learned to ignore that look in your years training Trevor.
The green falls away from your eyes like broken glass, the flames of faith flickering out and returning to their natural blue. Somehow you have found yourself sprawled onto the ground. The pervert Damien has at least not taken advantage of you yet.
"I take it you didn't appreciate your shadow spilling that particular secret," Damien says. With his words comes a hand to help you up, which you gladly take. "Believe me, I can empathize."
Dusting yourself off, you can only bring yourself to offer a quiet, "You don't say."
"Yes, I do..." Damien drawls. He reaches out to help dust you off, but his hand stops halfway when you give him a sharp look. Recoiling, as if your glare had pricked it. "You know, I never took you to be the sort of woman who'd learn how to breathe with a cucumber lodged in her throat. I had you marked down as the more puritanical sort, like this quistor I once knew."
As he speaks, you've finished dusting yourself off, now tending to your hat. It got a bit of muck on the plume, so you pray a quiet orison and brush it with your hand to help restore its color and shine. You're only half paying attention to him as you ask, "How do you mean?"