and breathe me. [p]

<blockquote>out of character;
congrats, atti! *high-five* you get my... first. : D; in this account.
ps: «text like this» is her thought-speak.
in character;
<div align=justify>
The sun beat down. It hammered into her brain, and her eyes—normally narrowed anyway—were that day not much more than slits as she stepped out from under the awnings and their cool and forgiving shade. There, not a cloud to protect Niley from whatever hellish beast or god which happened to be delighting in their wrath, today of all tediously dull days, no different (yet) from any other day. This day, she would have used Charl as a blindfold, had he not had the very real power to gouge out her eyeballs with his nose. As it stood, the little black rodent was curled up safely in her pouch, sleeping against several small packets the school administration would have delighted to get their pristine paws all over—if only they could have gotten past his fangs and her blank, unflappable expression.

She shouldered her way through a small cluster—gaggle, really—of students—"Ow, fuck"—"Excuse you"—"Did something from inside of her swat at me?"—with the obvious mind that she couldn't have cared less about them, even if she could hear them beyond an indistinct sort of mumbling. Instead, her sharp gaze was focussed on another female, silver and almost painfully out of her world. However, that was saying something: almost was a far cry better than completely. She bunched the inside of her mouth between her molars, gnawing gently, as she slumped gracelessly beside Trisk.

Nervous, maybe? It was unlikely, but possible and not without cause: transactions were notoriously difficult to make in the courtyard, and this was... an acquaintance. A frequent one. Perhaps. If she could call her that. Strangers were one thing—one inconsequential thing—and friends something so alien she could not even begin to fathom an emotion, but acquaintances ... acquaintances knew too much to be safe, and too little to be safely intimate. Acquaintances were a grey area, and Niley didn't know much about living in grey areas. Acquaintances, if she knew anything at all, needed to be fixed: either gotten rid of, or pulled in closer.

Niley pulled a leg up, shielding them, albeit poorly, against potential onlookers. Her skirt sprayed a little indecently in the process. Mm. «You interested in anything?» Greetings, with anyone, were nonexistent almost always. She leaned her pouch towards Trisk, cracking it open. After Charl had scuttled out and across her body to nestle somewhere beneath a thigh, the baggies were exposed: several were dried nujeq, some tinged faintly purple, along with several containing two or three pills, white or purple or yellow or blood-red. She closed it a half-moment after, and leant her neck against the back of the bench. Her lips pulled into a grimace, exposing teeth stained ever-so-faintly green. Almost unnoticeable, usually, except in this accursed sunlight.

«I think Yun was looking at me bit funny when I was coming out of dorms.» Yun was Niley's Medicine teacher, one who had been taking a peculiar interest as of late in getting her expelled. «Make up your mind quick-like.»</div>

 

<blockquote><div align="justify">It was instantaneous, the kind of quiet and benevolent power that flowed from Trisk like a mountain stream. It was a power that, if Niley had felt it before, she was only beginning to consciously comprehend. Her nervous tick was accentuated, her gnawing becoming a little more persistent until her cheek developed a raw and metallic taste. Fresh meat. The school guidance counselor, among others, would have definitely found it shocking that the girl was taking any notice of others. Niley certainly did, and Charl—probably sensing her heightened emotions—moved uncomfortably under her legs, coming out to stiff cautiously at Trisk's knee, as if he was meeting a stranger for the first time.

Nujeq, and the top bag of pills. At the request, she nodded—green leaves, white and yellow and white and—and dipped her hand discretely into her pouch. As her telepathy picked up spoken words, like a voice in the distance or a ship in dark silence and loud winds, she jerked to a stop and a stand-still. To an observer it would have looked like she had suddenly gotten lost in thought, but her gaze was fixed very surely onto Trisk. Meanwhile her mind was repeating over the alien words, louder and slower and faster, processing them. We can maybe hang out for a bit, too... Her body's automatic reaction was to repulse at this new, strange thing because it was new and strange. Niley did not deal well with the new and strange beyond her plants, her toxins, her drugs.

Yet, the idea in and of itself was not repulsive. It was even ... attractive. To get to know this thill was an attractive offer, and certainly not out of the question. She found herself nodding, slow but steady, and reaching out to hold the now-squealing rodent around its long belly to drop him into the pouch, where he grumbled unhappily. Niley stood, commanded her knees steady, reached in under her stiff, starched shirt to itch at a scratch along her belly. «If, uh, if you want,» her thought-speak tumbling awkwardly. «I can give you your stuff there, I suppose.»

She attempted a very unconvincing smile, one which looked more like someone had hooked wire into the corners of her mouth and lifted. «It would be... safer.»</div>

 

<blockquote><div align="justify">At the returned "smile" Niley adverted her gaze uneasily and nodded, though equally to herself as to Trisk, confirming the plan. She stood in time with the other female as if the moment was scripted, and even her step was a precise counterpoint to hers. It could not have been more pitifully obvious that the girl was trying her best to be social, even going so far as to ignore others completely: normally she at least processed the existence of other people in order to walk mostly around them. Following Trisk, she was tending to bump into roughly every other person. Follow me. Follow me. Follow me.

She could not have known whether it showed on the outside, but she could feel her intestines shivering as though they were being shaken like a frozen ragdoll. The elevator could only go up. It's not that Ni had a thing about heights, only that the staff made sure she stayed on the ground floor at all times, classes and dorm included. She had rarely been to the higher levels—with a distinct lack of curiosity—and the unfamiliarity of the elevator—god forbid she should use anything but her legs to get anywhere—added to the uncertainty. Trisk was right to push her a little, but it didn't stop her from grimacing dramatically at her request.

When Knilah did speak, her gruff and low voice was far louder than it need be ... except when it was far quieter. Because of her deafness, she was pretty much unable to control the pitch (either that, or she didn't bother).

"I don't like talking. Makes other people stare."

Simple as that. And she ignored the smile. Bait. I recognize that. Her paranoia, needless to say, was flaring up just a tad in the tight metal coffin.

Upon entering Trisk's room, Niley's eyes went wide. Much bigger than hers. Much brighter. Niley had been told that her room, "large" as it was, was given to her upon special request of admin in order to make her more ... comfortable. Whatever that implied. Wonder what room they could have dished out. She meandered vaguely over to the dresser, opened a drawer at random, and started sifting through it, her eyes glazing over dully. Underwear. Very clean. Hm. Weird. She closed it again and, gaze sweeping as she turned on an ankle, traipsed over to the bed to slump on it next to Trisk.

After using a finger to flick a piece of ash off the other's lap, she turned again to her pouch, opening it—letting Charl scurry out and across her torso and around the back of her neck, while he picked leisurely at her hair—and dumping out the baggies. She separated one of pure green nujeq, and one of yellow and white pills. She shrugged. «Bhijan or favours. Whatever.»

There was a pause then, as Niley worked on exactly how to phrase her question. She settled on, «So, you've never—like—asked me up here before.» She fixed her gaze firmly on her knees, fingers twitching for a cigarette or a joint. Something to suck on. «Did you, like, think I needed the company? 'Cause, you know, I don't. Charl usually talks much more than he's been doing. I think he's, um. Shy. Or something. Maybe he doesn't like you. I dunno. But he's a pretty good ... rat.» Charl, still behind her neck, squeaked loudly in indignation. Niley then stared pointedly at Trisk's knees. «You just wanted to ... buy, right? 'Cause, just, we could have done that in the girl's toilet.»

Her countenance turned particularly hard. «We didn't have to go in the elevator.»

 

<blockquote><div align="justify">At Trisk's curiosity, Niley's eyes narrowed a little. She didn't doubt that many people were curious about her, but they at least had the courtesy to not speak about her to her face. At least she could block them out.

And yet, despite her obvious hostility, Niley was warming up to this thill—granted, in her own bizarre kind of way. She responded to the comment with a cold sort of shrug, but her shoulders did relax visibly, exposing her collarbone rather than gripping it tightly. She combed through the baggies, pulling out one stuffed with dried purplish nujeq. She had blended with rizu, one of her own concoctions in order to harness some of the limb-numbing qualities of the latter. It also upped the strength of the nujeq. From an inner pocket inside the pouch, she withdrew a box of rolling papers and picked one out, beginning to curl it slightly. She did this all exceedingly mechanically, the motions obviously practiced.

The female glanced up only momentarily, to arch a thin eyebrow at Trisk. Favors? Depends on what you mean by that. The everyday meaning of the word was lost on Niley, let alone sexual favours. She shrugged and said a little nervously, «Favours of the party variety.» A corner of her mouth lifted, amused. «What did you think I meant?»

She turned back to her rolling, now knocking the contents of the baggie inside the paper, inserting a filter, and rolling it tightly. When she lifted the roll to lick at the end, she couldn't help but be a little shocked at Trisk's sudden change in expression. Niley hadn't meant to be mean or tactless, it just ... came out that way. Naturally. Much of the time. She sniffed and pulled out a lighter. «I'm sure they weren't worth your time, anyway.» Niley meant it, too. She could not understand why this thill should be lonely, bizarrely gentle and obviously smart as she was.

Flame to the tip, and Niley sucked in a breath, and waited a moment or two to let out a stream of purple smoke. She then gave a side-glance to Trisk, and offered the joint. Smirked. «This is a favour.» She stuck out her other hand, waiting for the bhijan.</div>

 

<div align="justify"><blockquote>Niley's eyes widened just a tad. Then she cracked a smile—a smirk—and snorted (snorted was her word and her perception; "giggling" would have been more appropriate). She was horrifically lightweight, and the drug was already starting to hit and make its way into her muscles. Normally the "asexual" female wouldn't have reacted to the mention of sex, like she wouldn't have reacted to an obvious come-on or sexual nudity.

Still grinning, she shook her head, chopped strands of hair brushing over her snout. «Oh, uh, no. I don't ... do that. Normally. Y'know.» Another embarassed giggle burst through her teeth and propelled her backwards, where she stuffed the coins inside her pouch. Charl, trapped under her neck, chattered angrily and wiggled out, retreating to the window ledge where he promptly began to sunbathe quite out of the way and quite unhappily.

From her spot on the bed, she reached forward and grabbed Trisk's arm, pulling it towards her in order to take another drag from the joint. Drugs, apparently, also made her touchy-feely. After a considering exhale, she asked, tactlessly yet cheerfully, «Do you do that? For drugs or ... other stuff?»</div>

 

<div align="justify"><blockquote>Niley raised an eyebrow and said, quite bluntly, «Uh, no.» Let alone feeling good or wanted or beautiful—or wanting to feel any of those things—the thill had never felt love or lust or even friendship. Or, that is, she had never felt anything close to friendship before the bizarre sort-of desire to be in Trisk's company. To see what she would do. Niley was actually quite glad to be sharing the joint, if only to see what happened when Triskellion shed her smoke-and-mirrors exterior.

She wanted to see her insides. Her lips curled into a smirk. Ah, yes. The drug was hitting nice and strong.

Curling over onto her side, the ashen `dragon extracted an impossibly sharp claw and (very gently) "helped" Trisk pick at her scab. Her eyes were fixed on it quite intently, as if mesmerized, but her mind was other places. Back to the conversation. «So, "sexual favours" ... I still don't understand.» She tilted her head nearer to the scab, resisting the urge to nip at it with her canines. That might be a bit too forward. «It hurts, right? It's got to.» Because, she reasoned inwardly, why would you do it otherwise?</div>

 

<div align=justify><blockquote>An unnatural shiver found its way into and up Niley's limbs, making her freeze for just a second and drop her hand away from Trisk's half-picked-off scab. It was not a pleasurable shiver—at least, not a pleasure she would have recognized. This conversation was certainly not going the direction planned, anyway. Instead of bringing her out, Niley had somehow managed to push her further into the shadows. Realistically, she shouldn't have been shocked by this: her grasp on `dragon psychology was not the greatest. Still, it was a failure, and she began to get visibly uncomfortable, even moreso with a conversation about sex which she did not have nearly enough control on.

You don't like the idea? «Uh, no,» she repeated hesitantly. «It's not that I don't like the idea. It's just I've never had the experience.» A pause, before she said a little forcefully (without quite knowing why), «Or interest.» She withdrew a little from the other female, curling up fetus-like on her side, staring at her green-tinged fingers while she let the alien words enter her mind. She had to concentrate on the Ramathian, not being fluent in it herself, but could decipher by ear its meaning. She shuddered again at Trisk's tone. Far too ... familiar. Trying to be familiar. She was not supposed to be familiar.

She could raise an eyebrow, however, in what approached bemused disbelief. «Didn't overshadow the pleasure?» She sighed slightly. It was obviously time to clarify herself. Her words were a little stagnated, careful. «I had thought—that the point of—sexual favours—sex—was to feel. Why would you want to dull the pain?» She rubbed her eyes tiredly with her fingers, her other hand tapping irritably on Trisk's knee. I don't understand. I don't understand you. She grabbed for the receding roach and began to quickly finish it off.</div>

 

<blockquote><p align=justify>«Early is as early does,» she cooed, rather bizarrely. The nujeq was obviously punching holes in the sense-making part of her brain.

Niley felt her body bounce against the soft mattress as the other female fell gracefully beside her, her limbs ringing with the sudden movement. She could not help frown at the other's form. Her friendly, familiar form. Friendly, familiar, and focused. Focused on something. Herself? No. Not possible. Not ... entirely possible. She rolled her shoulders uncomfortably under her, her bones already beginning to cramp up under the weight of the situation. Situations. Too many to keep track of. She needed a list.

One. The friendly, familiar, focused, furtive, female form. The one, that one, so near to her own that she could feel the electrons beaming back and forth in the space between their arms.

Two. The nujeq. Nile could no longer remember what in the world possessed her to take out her strong concoction with a stranger, when there was a perfectly good bag of light green leaves she tended to give to those she actively distrusted. Now she struggled to keep her own focus, struggled to stay aware of the entrancing quality of the drug.

Three. Triskellion was entrancing. Her touch scalded Nile's thigh, but she did nothing.

As the joint was passed back, Niley allowed their brief touch to linger several seconds longer than strictly necessary—allowed the electrons to fizz giddily between them, until the upright hair on the back of her neck became too much to bare. Pulling away slightly, she carefully punctured one long, sharp claw through the filter as an impromptu roach clip. In two breaths, the nujeq was gone, leaving only its cloud of purple smoke. She tossed the remnants into a nearby garbage bin, where it settled dangerously but did not burn. And, in the lucid mood that she was in, her stomach muscles contracted even as she scooted an inch or too closer, eyes drifting vaguely over Tri's scars.

«I don't know that feeling,» she mumbled, hardly realizing she had thought it on public channels. Then, stronger, «Can you ... describe it?»