>>5280071>>5280051>>5280048>>5279990>>5279960>>5279955>>5279949>>5279942>>5280112[We seem to have a sweep on the votes, so I’ll do one more post before bed; we’ll see how the morning goes, but I may or may not post then.]
You let the so-called bug-princess hold your hand as you return your brother to his chamber. You bid him farewell, and he waves you off good-naturedly as he slumps into his camber and chambers atop his throne to curl up and slumber. The day exertions of the day have clearly taken a lot out of him—as with you. In your youth, you might have stayed in that chamber with him, taking comfort in the rhythmic sound of his (admittedly loud) snoring. Tonight, though, you cannot even enter the chamber, lest his harem see the bizarre creature clutching your appendage.
“Why is it doing that?” the Novice sneers.
“I am not sure,” you admit. “I think Glowie is unused to being alone. Her other seems to… Commune with her ‘children’.”
Almost like a more intense and absolute form of the draconic Presence, you reflect—an insectoid empathy, perhaps?
The Novice just stares at you, then muffles her mouth to hide a rattling laugh.
“What?” you demand.
“’Glowie’?” she asks. “You named it ‘Glowie’? You NAMED it?”
“For brevity’s sake,” you huff.
Glowie shies away from the direct attention, but you notice that’s he—it? She?—fluoresces a little more brightly when you say the name.
“Just how degenerate ARE you, Hybrid?” the Novice teases.
You do her best to ignore her, though Glowie does not release your hand all the way to her final destination—where she will be spending the next 70-or-so hours.
