Fandom Trollhunters 1x1 Private RP - "Solider, Poet, King,"

[bingleybongusbingus]

It was a day like any other in the rural town of Arcadia, California. Hidden within the deep forests of the sunny state, where everyone knew everyone and no one was ever truly a stranger to one another.
So when new faces turn up, they are the talk of the town, literally and figuratively. Douxie knew the feeling- his new found friends Aja Terron, and her brother, Krel Terron, certainly knew the feeling. But he and them have all been here long enough for the sparkling interest to wear off, coming away once a full year to two has set in. It's more than a relief when people aren't hounding to talk or see you like some celebrity, as charming as that may sound to some- to Douxie, no matter how charismatic and conversational he knows he can be- it starts to feel less like paparazzi and more like a zoo exhibit. Speaking of, that seems to be the only bit that hasn't quite worn off yet for the young wizard.
He lifted his head minimally to survey where he stood, a broom handle clasped in his hands as he paused cleaning the crumbs from around the little tables and chairs closer to the bar. His gaze met the large window that saw outside to the patio of his little workplace, a cozy but dashing restaurant café combo. There you can see out to the center park across the street, and even the outside dining. But awkwardly enough, his view was obstructed by some curious highschool girls, crowding the usual sights to peer inside at him with pinkened cheeks and wide, sparkling eyes. When they noticed he'd caught onto them, some stiffened or yelped, while the others gave shy smiles and tiny waves. He snorted a small chuckle, lifting two fingers to his brow and flicking them away in a short but sweet salute of greeting. Short squeals followed his acknowledgement before they began to scurry, giggling and pushing eachother. Once they'd cleared, he lightly shook his head with a sigh. He didn't mind them, but he knew very well he was too old for them, regardless of the immortal wizard bit or not. Not like they'd know any better though. With a low hum in the back of his throat, he picked up the handle of the standing dustpan to angle and swept away the remnants of dirt, crumb, and other such, continuing about his day.
"Hope you don't leave anytime soon- we'd lose all our business." Teased an older woman behind the counter, working on refills and restocking the display case with the next batches from the kitchen. She was the baker, alongside her husband, who was the cook and owner of this charming establishment. He flashed her a playful look, shaking his head.
"I'd say it's your food that keeps them coming. Those scones are to die for, wouldn't you know it." He hummed, sliding the broom back into its place and getting to work on snatching some rags and spray. It was late day, heading into evening. Dinner rush was going to crowd in within the hour, with reservations at an all time high due to Summer being in full swing. She snorted, her chest puffed with pride.
"I would sure hope so. I haven't been working out this recipe for thirty years just for them to be garbage."
He smiled wide at her words, "I'm gonna get to wiping down the tables. Anything else that needs done after I'm through with that?"
She paused a moment, lifting her head to stare absently above her in thought. He noticed that his boss often moved her lips about when she thought, like a cat twitching it's whiskers. It was a bit funny to watch, but a habit he started to find endearing.
"Nah." She finally answered, head back down as she closed her eyes, expression lax and easy going. "You're clear to go, kiddo. Just the tables and enjoy your weekend."
Douxie felt his brows go up in surprise. "Really?" He asked, still unsure if she was serious. But she kept her face steady, and her eyes squinted as her smile widened with mirth.
"Yeah, why not? You really wanna stick around for dinner rush?" She asked in return. Douxie sucked a small breath through his teeth. No, he didn't really want to. He wouldn't mind, but dinner rush was always a stressful time.
"Go on, I'm not gonna change my mind. I've got other victims to cart around." Her voice was playful, snorting at the thought as she turned her back to him to head into the kitchen past a swinging door, leaving Douxie alone. Once the pleasant surprise faded, he hurried to get back to work. He couldn't get too excited- he knew he had other things to do, just meant he could get to them sooner now. Breaks would be... a ways away for him. He was used to this hum and bum, the lack of peace. Always on his toes, hands constantly moving. Just work, work, work. Usually he would feel the weight of it, the irritability that came with knowing how ridiculously unfair it was to constantly be working hard with no end in sight. But it didn't hit as hard as it used too. Sometimes he would feel an itch, a gnawing sort of impatience that would build in the back of his brain. But he always uttered the same phrase, over and over whenever such feelings came upon him, one he held close ever since it was spoken to him.
"magic is not permissible to hard work." He uttered under his breath, scrubbing a table earnestly. He was done with his task within ten minutes.

The sky outside looked like a painting. The myriad of colors that swathed in long smooth brush strokes, dripping down to collect and mend between the lines and create new layers. Ruby and warm jewel tones that blended into the cool ocean blues and lavender, occasionally dotted by the streaks of fluffy white cloud. Douxie stood outside the shop, closer to the sidewalk, simply staring at the sky over the tops of the park trees, feeling the breeze pull his clothes and play with his hair like a sibling. He couldn't resist the smile that pulled up his lips, simply looking out, watching and feeling the world around him. If he paid attention, he could even feel the thrum of magic. Of the life the breathed within it and in everything. A connection that brought him down to Earth. Reminded him of what is, and what was.
A pressure around his ankles, winding and rubbing implored him to look down. His warm smile widened into a grin.
"Ah, there you are. What'd you find out?" He asked the ebony pelted creature. It looked up, great golden eyes gleaming behind a pair of circular frames. Peculiar to wear for just any animal, especially a cat. But Douxie knew this wasn't just any cat. With a small hunker down, the cat wiggled it's haunches, and shot upwards in a powerful leap. But the claws did not dig, and he landed with the touch of a feather, settling on his shoulders like he were made to be there. Douxie began to walk once the cat was on him, hands in his pockets. Once he was sure there was no one around, the cat finally spoke.
"There are more this time. I can smell them in every corner now." It told him gravely. Douxie felt his mood dampen a tad. He made a small hum of acknowledgement, imploring him to continue.
"Something got to a woman last night. Likely one of them. She's unharmed. Just a few nips. Frightened beyond belief, though."
"That's no good." He chimed.
"Certainly not. We have to find where they're coming in from, and fast." The cat told him earnestly. Douxie gave a small sigh through his nose, turning down the corner of a block.
"Anything else?" He asked after he passed a small group.
"Other than some rather curious town gossip, nothing to note."
"You would be getting in on gossip, you nosy gnat." Douxie snickered. The cat gaped at him, "I was getting information, thank you! No harm in it."
"I'm teasing, Archie, I'm teasing! You'd think you'd know that after being with me for so many centuries." He chided lightly. But Archie only huffed and grumbled incoherently, flicking his tail to smack the young wizard squarely in the face. Douxie sputtered, fighting off a laugh as he swiped the cats tail away, mockingly sending him a faux glare, before continuing his stride. He knew just what he'd be doing tonight. Just had to get back to the bookstore and prepare. After a few moments of silence, Douxie finally chimed again.
"So," He said through the silence, "What exactly did you hear on your gossip excursions?"
Archie guffawed so loud that someone across the street jumped.
"Who's the nosy gnat now?"

 

[januarys_ember]

"Bye Delia, thanks for staying to clean up!" Carrie said for the tenth time, already half out the door the second it hit closing time. "I'll make it up to you!"
"Bye, see you tomorrow!" Delia raised her hand to wave the damp rag she was holding but her coworker was already gone. Ah well, that was alright. Now alone, she quickly finished wiping down the rest of the counters, sweeping dirty cups and plates and coffee pots into the sink.
It was so strange for the cozy little coffee shop to be so quiet, she noted as she walked to the front and pulled the window shades down, casting the place into evening darkness. Not that she was complaining, because it was nice to be alone after eight hours of talking and serving and reintroducing herself to the same customers who asked for her name every other day. For as much as Arcadia's residents seemed deeply, sometimes uncomfortably interested in any new faces, they had a funny way of being entirely dismissive all in one swoop. But maybe that was for the better; after all, they'd moved to Arcadia to try and disappear.
Delia swept her long, dark hair up into a ponytail and turned on the faucet, attacking the dishes with vigor. The monotony of soaking and scrubbing left space for her thoughts.
Eight months, almost nine, since she and Winnie had fled the east coast, hoping for safety and a bit of peace on the other side of the country. It had worked -- so far -- although Delia was old enough (ha) now to know not to relax too much before a year was even over. Winnie at least seemed to be settling in just fine.
Speak of the devil and she shall appear. As Delia was setting mugs on the drying rack, the door swung open with a ding and her friend stepped through. Today, she had bundled her brown and pink curls atop her head in one barely contained bun, adding at least two inches to her already tall height. Paint splattered her clothes and her face, which grinned.
"Almost done? I'm starving!"
Almost," Delia confirmed. She flicked her wrist and let the rest of the dishes rinse and dry themselves, before floating into a neatly arranged stack. "We have some chicken in the freezer, I could make chicken risotto tonight?"
"Sounds good to me!" Winnie bounced on the toes of her feet as she waited, still endlessly energetic even after a day of working at the daycare with Arcadia's youngest residents. "It's weird when it's so quiet in here. Kinda spooky!"
Delia only hummed in agreement as she let her hair down again and took her apron off, hanging it on a peg behind the cash register. She ushered Winnie back out the door and pulled it firmly shut behind her, watching the hidden line of runes carved into the wood of the doorframe glimmer as she did so. The whisper of magic whooshed through the air, almost discernable as actual words. The feeling made Delia frown.
"Did you hear something weird just now?"
"Hm? No." Winnie had her head tilted back, basking in what would be the last of the day's sunlight. "It's going to be a perfect sunset," she declared as Delia locked the door. Her bright smile never wavered, only softening a little as she stared up into the colorful sky.
Her friend smiled softly. "You say that about every sunset."
"Because I believe it." The two girls fell into step beside each other, taking the now familiar path toward their new old little home. It was only then Winnie noticed the absence of a third. "Where's Laurie?"
Delia's frown deepened slightly. She'd actually begun to wonder the same thing, but she couldn't feel anything wrong...
"I don't know, I haven't seen her for a few hours. She's probably waiting back at the apartment."


The aforementioned familiar was in fact, not waiting at her wizard's apartment, although the idea of cozying up in her spot on the second-hand couch was pleasant to think about. But no, Laurathiana -- or "Laurie" as she was more commonly known -- was on the hunt. Not for prey or for a stray goblin, but for another wizard.
The small fox had stalked through the shadows of Arcadia's (frankly quite unpleasant smelling, in her opinion) downtown, waiting. She could have tracked his magic trail, every wizard or witch had one, but at the time it had seemed like too much effort relative to the conversation she wanted to have with Merlin's young apprentice. No, Laurie could wait, keeping to the cool shade while watching various shoes walk by, the people occupying them chattering about all sorts of useless things.
Arcadia seemed to be full of useless things and useless people, in her opinion. But Cordelia seemed to like it, Winnifred liked it even more, and what Laurie liked was that they were safe. Or at least, they were supposed to be. Arcadia had historically been home to a rather large magical population. Not just trolls but fae, nymphs, shapeshifters, even other familiars who had yet to tie themselves to a wizard or witch. But that population seemed to be dwindling in ways that made the fox deeply uncomfortable. She was also uncomfortable with the fact she hadn't noticed anything wrong until a couple of days ago.
But that was why she was here. The spectacled cat's voice had reached her ears, signaling the person she wanted to talk to was coming down the sidewalk. Melting out of the shadows, Laurie sat herself in the young wizard's path.
"You really are quite loud." Cordelia might scold her for that small jab but really, how could she help it? Archibald was truly annoying. Laurie shook herself slightly, reminding herself she was here for a reason. "Hisirdoux, may I have a word with you?"


"Disgustingly dry." The harsh words sounded out into the darkness of the cave in a growl, bouncing off the wet stone until they faded into nothing. Blood soaked the stone floor beneath him as Bular climbed off the cold, crude grey table and flexed his limbs. Blood soaked those too, but it quickly faded away as the magic did its work, restoring life and movement to his stiff limbs. "It will not be enough."
"I've had enough of your complaining." From the darkness, Bellroc's eyes glowed red as fire. "I told you, we're working on a more permanent solution; but you have yet to hold up your end of the bargain."
"The deal is unfair."
"And yet it is a deal you agreed to." Their already eclipsed tones sharpened, rising slightly in pitch. Had the Prince of Trolls been any lesser, he might have flinched. As it was, he remained still. Bellroc seemed irritated at this. They dropped their voice but the low, threatening tones couldn't conceal their irritation. "Just find the Trollhunter! I will handle the rest."