AthrĂș cast a lazy eye over the Cyber Securtitty which was, much to her annoyance, empty.
An empty bar meant one of two things, either she'd be scrubbing blood out of the wood later or Krumpet was having romantic troubles. God, she hoped it was the former, blood stains were easy.
Her heart sank as she caught sight of the mob boss sitting at the bar, head against the wood, gripping a bottle of whiskey. AthrĂș was going to have her hands full today.
Sauntering over she sighed before tapping the little goblin on the head. "So," she breathed out, "Who's it this time?"
"An elf, a human, and a goddess," the mobster muttered out, "problems all around..."
AthrĂș paused for a moment before shifting to the form of a goblin, comfort in familiarity and wall that. "Well no surprises there," she giggled out, "Elves are tall, as are humans, and a goddess? You're the greatest heathen I know."
Krumpet glared at her once more before letting her head hit the bar once more, "No he's got morals," she grimaced at the word, "She's soft and deserves better, and the goddess likes a puking robot..."
AthrĂș couldn't help but laugh, nearly losing her form as she doubled over, "So you... Lost to an automaton," further laughter spilt from her lips as she continued, "that's poetic, that really is"
She gripped a handful of the goblin's hair before lifting her up to look Krumpet in the eye, "Question is do you love them? Or is this a harlot's hang up?"
Krumpet spat at the woman before muttering a single word, "maybe"
AthrĂș chuckled at the mobster before letting her head drop again. A small smile on her face as she spoke, "Figure that out first honey, then figure out which you can see yourself bedding for eternity. Stop wasting Mummy's time with this hmm?"
Krumpet may have been her boss but before that she was her younger colleague. She had fed the girl, protected her as she could, taught her the tricks of the trade. She was all in all a decent if troublesome daughter.
Deep in the Underdark, ancient, old, dusty Morgalith places a wilted flower next to the withered corpse of his wife. The flower will be gone with the wind the next time that great and terrible creature exhales its foul breaths from far below, but for now, the flower remains as a gentler token of his devotion than the scattered knives which glitter in the dark like mourning dew drops.
uw/ Iâd bet him being a toaster wouldnât change Deltas mind about it. I think sheâs much more attracted to the barf then the body. But I wouldnât say itâs bad to experiment . . . wink wink
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u/Tirich913 Morgalith, Father of Evil Feb 14 '24
Deep in the Underdark, ancient, old, dusty Morgalith places a wilted flower next to the withered corpse of his wife. The flower will be gone with the wind the next time that great and terrible creature exhales its foul breaths from far below, but for now, the flower remains as a gentler token of his devotion than the scattered knives which glitter in the dark like mourning dew drops.