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Badfool/Blinkk

badfool

Moon
Joined
Oct 4, 2014


Name: Jaheel or commonly shortened to 'Jahl'
Age: 18
Gender/Sex: Male/Male
Species: Human
Appearance: Naturally tanned skin, somewhat bronzed/earthy but if looked at closely he has a number of freckles over his face that normally wouldn't be noticed from afar. His hair is dark, cut short and has potential to be unkempt if he didn't tend to it as it naturally waves, frames his face, and has more of a courser texture. His hair is dark brunette but with the slightest bit of a tawny or reddish hue to it given the right light.. As for his face, his eyes are fairly thin despite having fuller lips and more round features than sharp ones. Still, he holds an authoritative expression a good portion of the time so it's not typically the first thing someone would even pay attention to. Despite most of his features being on the darker end (his father's side being fairly dark-skinned people while his mother's side had a more olive complexion), his eyes are a light brown and can go so far as to be described as having an amber hue to them. He dresses modestly and tends to stick to deep/brownish reds, beige, browns, oranges, sometimes golds and anything that tends to be pretty earthy in color since he doesn't find white or blues to suit him. Never one to have his arms seen bare so he sticks to dark, long-sleeved tunics and neatly buttoned outerwear. Not one for jewelry aside from perhaps a traditional ring worn only by kings.
Other: Two younger twin sisters who take after him as well as a few cousins who frequent his palace.

Low, incoherent murmurs passed through the great hall as every eye fell upon the strange being, forcibly stationed in the room's center – hands and forearms secured in intricate binding of leather to ensure his capture. Likewise, his ankles were far from ignored as they were bound with enough slack to allow him to be led. Never had there been so much awe in the palace, so much gaping and staring as there had been from the lowliest of servants to the most rounded of scholars and appointees. Each shared the identical likeness of wide-eyed bafflement, their own awe silencing them as they soaked in the fleeting sight of the elf in all his bound glory. Truly there had never been a more astounding scene in years – that of a captured elf on trial for attempting the king's life in the very palace he would soon submit himself.

The process of a trial was more customary than it was dependent on a jury. In fact, the judge paid little to no mind of the elf himself but rather negotiating said creature's punishment with none other than the very one he was sent to slay. The young king seated close enough for the two to speak privately without the distraction of those allowed inside the courtroom, those who'd spent the entirety of the session passing along frantic whispers while they so desperately attempted to get a clearer view from where they had been seated. Even the most diligent students of law could not hold back their unabashed curiosity. Strange... he was so completely odd to them and it showed on nearly every face. To catch his eyes would be a blessing; to catch his eyes would also instill fear among them. A fear of what they were not sure – of the unknown, of the unfamiliar, of the inhuman. Yet the king had no qualms in doing so. Rather, his were inviting in the way an unlikely predator welcomed its prey, so dreadfully patient and confident in himself that he found no reason to tense. He only seldom parted gaze unless it was to address the judge, even then he could not help but flicker back glances. Still, he did not gawk nor did his dark brows furrow or face crumple in disdain when facing the criminal, for he had much bigger intentions than to cringe at what could have been.

Near closing, the final question came hushed at his side. Was he sure of this? Yes. He nodded to the man once more, a wordless affirmation that he understood each and every risk when there was always the simple solution: execution. No, he stressed his refusal so many times during the session, claiming that this 'strange one' would find a greater purpose at his side than hanging cold from a noose. No one had gotten so close to him, had breached the outer stone walls with such dexterity and outwitted his guards more qualified to be soldiers than stationery men... nor had they found his sleeping chambers at such an impressive rate. It was not the first attempt, nor would it be the last, but the quality of efforts were nonetheless appreciated. They almost succeeded.

Almost.

With that, his decision was made and the judge had no power to deny him. He stood first, nodded with the custom of finality to the judge followed by the bewildered audience of sorts that sat to either side. The sentence had then been announced: the criminal would solely belong to the king henceforth, as both property as consequence of his crime and failure.
 
Name: Tirnel (Star Gazer)
Age: 74 (or 23 in human years)
Gender/Sex: Male/Male
Apperance: Wearing clothing of dark blues and blacks, the trained assassin tried to stick with colours easily found in his city that could allow him to blend in with his dark surroundings. To contrast the dark colours, Tirnel's hair was the brightest of blonde, sitting so very close to the winter season's newly fallen snow with the slightest hint of blue. His skin was smooth and pale, highlighted with the faintest of greys. As many of his kind had, the elf wore his hair long, falling down to the middle of his back if not kept together by a strip of leather or cloth. It hung loose over his face, a deep part to the left side, allowing his bangs to fall to the side of his face, commonly falling over his eyes. His features were crisp and angular, stern when he needed to show it, but just as bright and cheerful as a bright summers day. The bright coloured orbs of his eyes were typically found to be a light, haunting blue, while on a few rare occasions they had been noted to be steel grey. The one item that set him apart from every other human was the slight point of the shell of his ear.
While many of his kind enjoy the option to wear more loose fitting clothing, Tirnel had always been one to stick to the tighter choice. From pants that were wrapped firmly around his legs, leaving just enough room to move without ripping, to shirts that hugged him close, each option gave the elf the chance to move without worrying about his clothing catching on anything around him. Given his job, it was important to not have to worry about getting caught on anything. Around his neck stood two choker-like necklaces, one from both of his parents to remind them of what they had done for him.
Other: With no family left in the world, Tirnel has nothing to loose by becoming an assassin and risking his life against his targets.
-----X-----​

The plan had been fool proof! With the command from their crew's boss, Tirnel was put in charge of taking the crew into the palace, finding the king's bedroom and taking him out. The reasons were unknown, but they were hired for a good amount of money. That was the only way they would have even considered taking such a large job. Not only was there the risk of getting caught, but if they were, death was a sure end to them all. Making their way through the city to the palace was easy enough, but as soon as they got inside it was a whole other matter. Tirnel's instincts were trained to find the target, which he used in every job they accepted. This one was no different.

Finding the king's rule was not difficult. They got inside of the room and found the king resting, just as they had expected. But it wasn't until a member of the crew tripped that the problems arose. He landed face first on the ground, daring to look up at the rest of the group with a look of shame plastered to his face. The rug behind him had been lifted, making it obvious what he had tripped over. And it wasn't until they heard the sound of the door opening that the panic set in. "{Scatter!}" Tirnel commanded and each assassin too off in every direction to get out of the room. And while Tirnel darted to a window, he was the only member who didn't make it. The guards had their hands on him before he could get away and that was the exact moment he knew he was in trouble. His life was about to end.

The time sitting in jail seemed to go by quickly. Perhaps just a day or two before Tirnel was summoned before the king. His hands were bound tightly, ankles connected by just the most basic of chains, but it was enough to keep him from running anyway. The guards surrounding him told the elf he had no chance of getting free. They lead him to the royal's throne room and that was when their eyes first landed on him. Tirnel's horribly hunched shoulders straightened as soon as he began to hear the soft mutters from the crowd. The doors didn't have to be opened long before the elf heard the sound of discussion. In a language he barely knew, it was difficult to know exactly what they were saying. Even when the judge began to speak, the elf could only pick up the odd word or two, but the expressions on his face told Tirnel more than he really wanted to know. He was going to be executed by means of something called... 'hanging'. That term made no sense to the prisoner.

The conversations around him began to distract him, eyes turning from one side to the other, moving slowly from one group to the next. Each reacted in the same way; eyes turning away as if he could kill them with one look. That was so very untrue... But like many humans he had met, they were probably afraid of what they didn't know. Tirnel couldn't blame them. His race was a strange one to them and who knew what he was capable of. If he could get into the king's room as he slept, what else could he do? But the one set of eyes that the elf couldn't shake were those of the royal he had gone after. Tirnel's eyes turned to his, daring to meet them and match his stern gaze, barely stopping to blink.

Tirnel kept his attention the king until he rose from his seat. That must have meant the hearing was coming to an end and the man did everything he could to pay attention to the verdict and translate it the best he could. The judge looked stunned and the sound from the crowd wasn't going to move Tirnel from the thought that something strange had happened. And while he couldn't understand it completely, he knew a few words.

'Belong'. 'King'. 'Property'. 'Failure'. They could be roughly translated into his own common tongue and without the strange word 'hanging' involved, Tirnel guessed at his fate. He was set to serve the king.

Maybe he should have paid more attention to the common tongue languages he had as a child. As the crowd began to talk amongst themselves, the elf searched out someone who could possibly explain the situation to him. He wanted to speak, to cry out for some sort of help or guide, but he never wanted to look weak in front of the strange king. Instead, his blue eyes wildly searched the crowd for some sort of assistance, snow-coloured hair still a mess from his time in the castle's dungeon. There had to be someone who could at least roughly translate for him! If not, his new life was going to be its own special kind of hell.
 
The night the group had attempted the kings life had set the entire palace in a fit of disarray. The maids had been spooked to the point of locking themselves away as soon as the slightest suggestion of invaders had spread, the guards had no approximation of how many had breached their walls and no room, not even the slightest nook or cranny had gone ignored. Even the king had not been able to give an accurate count, for by the time he'd been jolted awake and was able to separate reality from the gauze of sleep the group had dispersed in their escape. All but one.

Jahl hadn't even seen much of Tirnel's struggle as his men had torn the elf from the window and promptly pinned him. Had he been any closer to where the king lay or touched him it was likely he'd have been killed on sight; whether or not that was more dignified than a life of servitude was up to Tirnel. In fact, the elf seemed to be one of the few beings to serve under the king both unwillingly and for a violent charge. To be positioned beside the king himself, his former target, was just plain suicide.

But Jahl saw an opportunity. From the moment Tirnel was introduced to the court he could not turn his eyes off of him. Other men who'd invaded his palace hadn't even gotten half as close as his band of assassins and more often than not he didn't bother with such a formal hearing. Usually they were either imprisoned or sentenced to for heavier labors on the outskirts of the kingdom. Some, if violent enough, put to death. Really, it was all a decision of the highest power in the end and Jahl saw no reason for wasted potential.

The hearing came to a close and not once throughout the session had Tirnel been given a single hint of his fate. One of the men standing at his shoulder would occasionally nudge at him an attempt to break his eyes off of the king but eventually retired his efforts; Tirnel would not follow most of the judge's words anyways. Eyes that drilled the men around him to the very core, that's what Jahl was fascinated most. He looked more like an agitated predator than a man forced before a court and king for his crimes. The judge had not addressed him until the very end, and even then the ruling was better delivered to the jury and spectators than the criminal himself. So when Jahl stood and nodded in finality with his decision, the guards stationed at Tirnel's side clamped him firmly by the upper arm and led him out of the courtroom in suit of the king.

If the elf was to be of daily service to him the king wouldn't tolerate unruliness. It would have been one thing to leave both his clothing and his hair be had he been strung up after conviction but to be in the new presence of a master in such a state was unacceptable. They had been given two orders in passing after the courts procession out: to make him presentable any way they saw fit and to keep his hair it's natural length. An odd request, but nothing they would question as Tirnel had been traded by the guards over to three much less daunting figures; two women and one male. All of which servants given the instruction to bathe and dress and instruct the elf how to behave in a suitable matter before he was to formally meet their king.

They had led him to the bathhouse in his full restraints, the two women at either side while the man followed behind. One of the servants, a slender young woman dark in complexion and wild, auburn curls was the first to speak to Tirnel without a calloused tone.

"I hope you're not one of the modest types," she mused with an apologetic smile as the doors of the bathing room had closed behind them. The baths were filled adequately while the edge of the deep tub were lined with an array of bottled soaps and fragrant oils. Finally, the man stepped forth to undo the bindings so that he may properly undress himself. "Leaving you alone won't do. Can't have you drowning yourself after we went through the trouble of filling a bath."
 
Tirnel pulled at the hand now taking hold of his arm, hoping that he would do nothing more than release him. He couldn't run, thanks to the rest of the guards in the palace, but he didn't need to be lead around like a new pet. The same man that had been nudging him throughout the trial was leading him through the halls, past several guards and batches of frightened maids, along with years of history and art displayed proudly on the walls of the royal's home. The elven man did what he could to look through the halls as he passed by each item. During the night, he had more time to take a look, but he had more important things on his mind than checking out the scenery. Each time he passed one of the working humans, Tirnel was careful to make just a split second of eye contact before he turned to the next. If he was trapped here, the elf was about to decide to make it worth it.

He still hadn't the slightest clue what he would be doing in his new life, but as they went, it was becoming clear that he would be staying in the palace. His gaze fell upon the three new servants as the guards began to slow to a stop. He pulled his arm from the one guard, shooting him a challenging glare before he stepped forward to the next set of guides. Anything to get away from the guards he had just had a delightful stroll with.

Delightful. Sure, that's a word for it.

He went with them, trailing his attention to the places around him, already learning his way through the halls. One or two spots looked familiar, as he had passed them just a few nights before, but in the day light it looked not only different but far more appealing. He stepped inside the bathhouse, allowing his attention to wander before turning towards the auburn haired woman. Finally someone who sounded at least half friendly towards him. Tirnel offered his hands towards the new man, allowing him to undo the bindings without an argument. He rubbed at his wrists as the other removed his ankle binds, only to step towards the bath to take a look at what was set up around the tub. The language was... strange. It looked nothing like his own. He looked back to the woman, light blue eyes scanning over her body before lifting up one of the bottles. He turned his gaze back and opened the top.

"Mani..." He paused, looking at the table more carefully. He had to have remembered some of the Common tongue. He wasn't completely stupid... "What... What it?" He turned back to the servant, eyes matching hers before he took a light sniff of the oil. "{Lavender?}" He closed the bottle and set it back down before picking up the next. "{Is there Sandalwood?}" He paused, sniffing the next bottle. "Er... San...delwood?" Other than that, he had no idea what the woman was saying except for a few odd words. But none of them helped him to figure out what she was saying.
 
Indeed the maids displayed their horrified curiosity once passed, women mumbling in hushed whispers to one another while the men were much more open about their discomfort. To see an elf up close as Tirnel was to them was either a nightmare or a treat depending on the sort, but in his case the company was not warmly welcomed. Their glances were distrusting, disturbed and worried that the elf would attempt another attack once his bindings had been removed. There didn’t seem to be a single soul there who wasn’t worrisome about where Tirnel would sleep –would he join them in the servant quarters and be paired with one of them alone? Would they share meals with him and retire to a room after a day’s work only to sleep with one eye open? Or would he sleep alone given the fact that he was not a servant of choice but rather the property of the king now? Whichever it may be, it was unsettling.

The only one who didn’t seem to be giving Tirnel such weighted glances was the woman with the wild hair, which by the time the group had reached the baths was already tied back in a thick ponytail. She stood aback while the elf’s bindings were removed and when his limbs were finally free to move about as they pleased. With folded over arms, she watched Tirnel explore the choice of soaps and oils which sat on the bath’s edge out of curiosity. When he turned to her, her eyes opened with alertness and surprise that he actually had addressed someone aside from defensive glowers. His voice was oddly pleasant – for a criminal.

“Sandalwood?” She reflected, biting back a smile at the mispronunciation. The grin was forced to be modest as she approached and searched for the right bottle, chanting the name under her breath until she’d found it. “Mhm—"

“Just have him bathed, Nona,” sighed one of the men who’d removed the shackles. Every part of him slumped with impatience while the other tried not to pay any mind to the fact that Tirnel would soon strip to bathe. “Does it matter what he smells like so long as it isn’t reek? At this rate—"

“He wanted Sandalwood and I helped him find it.” Her tone remained cheerful despite her cocked eyebrows and leering stare. The man did not speak again aside from a lengthy sigh. “Alright now, bath’s filled and we’ll have more peeking in here if we take too long,” she tried to rouse the elf into understanding as her hands waved at the air, her eyes falling down to Tirnel’s strange clothing as she motioned for him to undress. She certainly wasn’t going to be the one to remove his garments, not out of fear but general respect.
 
If Tirnel had been in any other position, there was a chance he might have tried to speak to this woman. But since he was held against his will, there wasn't a chance in hell that sort of thing would happen. If by choice, he would have wanted to learn as much as he could from her. But he wasn't about to waste time getting to know someone, or even speaking to them for very long when he wasn't sure where he would be the next day or if he would even be alive. For all he knew, he was being prepared to see the royal male only to be killed by his own hand during the night. But either way, he want along with what they had asked. His fingerless gloved hand dipped into the water, cupping some before lifting it from the water, letting it all run from his hand, eyes watching it. The tub beside him was far larger than what he was used to using inside of a home. Typically, he did nothing more than take a bar of soap and going down to the waterfall-made lake to bathe. If he had to stay in town, there was one tub they all used in turn. But that was only used during the rare times when no one was allowed to leave their city.

As soon as he smelt the familiar scent, his attention snapped back to Nona. His eyes studied her as she began to wave at him, making some sort of motion to his clothing. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to figure it out before glancing towards the guard then back. He tipped his head, his hair shifting with the movement before smiling, something mischievous coming across in his look. He didn't waste long though. He slid his hands to the belt at his waist and removed it, dropping it to the ground seconds before he unbuttoned and removed the long jacket he had on his upper body. It too fell and the elf glanced towards the guard across the room. His eyes slid back to Nona, where he held them for just a second. The last thing he wanted was someone coming in to check on them, so he made quick work of the shirt and the second belt on his pants. He rested at the edge of the tub to remove his boots and slide the pants off his legs before slipping back into the tub, submersing his head and chest for a second or two before shifting to give the rest of his body a chance in the water.

With a light push back to the surface, he sat up, wiping the water from his pale features. His body had been scared from years of fighting in his city, several side gashes sitting vibrantly across his chest. Compared to his typical colouring, the scars were a dark blue colour, making them stand out more than he might wish. On his back was when the real painful winces came. Despite his entry into the water, the open wounds on his back were still hurting him, even more now that he had gotten warm water into them. But Tirnel fought a wince of pain as he sat back against the wall of the bathing tub, eyes travelling from one bottle to the other, his grey hand travelling up to one of the two choker pendants around his neck.

The two were both tied with leather, one strip thicker than the other. The inch thick strap of a light tan hide held a bright yellow stone, possibly a variety of Citrine, with a deep orange burst of colour deep inside, wrapped just tight enough around his neck to stay close without choking him. The other was a thinner piece, about a half an inch which wrapped around his neck two times, was made of a much darker, almost black leather, holding a deep purple amethyst gem, dotted with hints of blue and white, at just about the same level as the other. The elf let his hand slide from his neck and back into the water, closing his eyes as he lowered himself under the surface again, working himself into a slight state of relaxation. Compared to what he had just been living in, this was heaven. He actually silently thanked whoever the damn royal was for forcing his guards to take him to the the bathhouse.

Tirnel forced himself back to the surface, removing the strip of cloth from his hair to rest on the side of the bath before finding Nona again. "{Where is...}" His words fell silent as he pursed his lips and sat forward, glancing at what was around him again. They used handmade soaps in their city... he only hoped they used something that was near the same here. But he glanced back to Nona for her next bit of advice as to the routines the humans followed.
 
The two men who had undone Tirnel’s bindings stationed themselves near the far doorway of the bathing room, one idly digging under his nails without so much as a glance upwards. If there was a fuss he was sure to hear it, there was no point in staring. The other, however, found it difficult to keep his eyes out of range and found himself occasionally staring to catch a glimpse. His structure was different; the coloring of his skin too light and fair for comfort and even his movements seemed far too fluid for any human. The one man in particular caught the elf’s eyes on occasion, wrenching them away when his gross curiosity was exposed. Still, he kept silent and mumbled small talk to the man at his side. Nona, however, focused more on tending to Tirnel’s cleanliness and stepped around the room, gathering fresh towels and cloths to place at the tubs side as well as a pair of clothing for when Tirnel would finish and dry himself.

The clothing set out for him was of a plain design, straight stitching and along with its simplicity they were mute in coloring. He was offered an airy shirt, neither loose nor snug but it definitely did not cling as his former garments had aside from how the sleeves of the arms drew in close to the forearms. The pants folded beneath were made of beige wool, a thicker material than the shirt but stiff enough to be worn regularly and without much wear –Tirnel’s size was estimated, but enough to give the elf room for a range of movement regardless. Nona mentioned somewhere along the lines that if the clothing did not fit she would see to it to find another pair, but the comment must have flown over Tirnel’s head in all of the confusion as he was led through the palace.

Nona kept her eyes shifted away from Tirnel as he was shortly exposed, tasking herself by gathering the washing and drying cloths. When he had submerged himself beneath the water and the froth of the soaps pre-poured, she turned her eyes back on his face and even to the pendants hugging the elf’s neck close. Beautiful stones with brilliant color, her smile was undoubtedly in response to the strange accessories. She would have asked about them had Tirnel been able to speak more complex words of their language. Instead she settled on pointing to the two chokers when the elf had surfaced, noting that they were ‘beautiful’ and settled with the word and whether or not Tirnel understood it didn’t mean he wouldn’t understand what she was referring to.

“Soap,” she pointed to three of the larger bottles upon the small table beside the tubs edge, forming a scrubbing motion with her hands. The men standing at the door could only roll their eyes at her attempt to connect with the elf more personally aside from quick commands. Ignoring the two, she continued by picking up one of the full bottles and setting it on the edge of the bath, repeating the word once again for him. May as well help him learn their language if his stay was permanent.

“He won’t understand what you’re saying. Besides, it’s best he doesn’t learn to speak our language anyways.” The two men nodded in agreement but Nona chose to ignore the comment. It wasn’t as though she blamed them necessarily- Tirnel did attempt to assassinate a royal. But it was her duty to help the eld assimilate to a long life of servitude than a life cut short.
 
It took the elf a few moments to actually work his way towards the soap. Nona's movements, the stares from the guard at the door and now her gesture towards his necklaces was all too much. But as soon as he saw the light point, his hand moved to cover the gems, as if that would guard them from any possible ideas she would have about stealing them. But she didn't move and in fact, she called them a name. 'Beautiful'? His fingers lingered over them, eyes stuck on the woman even when she made the gesture. That wasn't hard to understand in the slightest. His eyes trailed down to her hands then back up to the woman's own gaze. His free hand made a pointing gesture towards the bottle before his eyes dropped to it. It was a slow movement, but he reached for it, opening the top to give it a quick sniff. It smelt... clean. Much like the soap he was used to using at home.

"Lipsa?" He asked, looking it over before tipping it over to add a bit onto his finger. In what they might have seen as the stupidest action ever, the elf brought the finger to his lips, his dark blue tongue flicking out to lick at the tip. Yes, that certainly tasted like soap, but he refused to wince or show any sort of regret in that action. "Soo... up," he repeated carefully, attempting to replicate the sound, only to look to Nona. "Lipsa." Tirnel held up a finger, giving a light point in her direction, much like a teacher may have when making a point. And his point was to try to teach her some of his own words, just as she was trying to help him. He didn't know if he'd see her again, but it couldn't hurt. She had been the nicest person in this palace so far, so why not try to communicate?

But he began the normal action of bathing. First with his hair, working his slender fingers through the near-white locks, giving it a nice lather before beginning to wash it away in the water, adding another full dunk of his face beneath the surface as he did so. It wasn't needed, but it gave him a few seconds of silence with his thoughts. That was enough to make this situation bearable. For now at least. He hadn't even met the prince...

When he returned to the surface, Tirnel picked up the soap again and let more fall to his hand before he began to work it against his skin. Being locked in the dungeons without a bath for days meant the dirt he had gained from his journey and just being in the cell had begun to work up. Since he had the chance, he worked the substance over his skin, leaving long scratches over his body as he tried to work the dirt away from his skin. It took longer than he thought it would, but when the pain died into a low tingle, it was all worth it. Instead of a strange, unnatural taupe grey colour, his skin was now back to its normal light peach with the hints of slate that he was used to and loved so dearly. His fingers ran over his arm once it returned, a faint smile coming over his lips. And, wasting no time, he continued to work the dirt from him to bring out his natural tone once again. Once he was sure it was there, he gave one final wash down to rise the soap from him before twisting his hair to ring out the water and standing up.

With the grace of the finest of human dancers, the elven male stepped from the tub, picking up one of the towels that had been laid out for him. He wrapped one around his waist and picked up a second cloth to being drying his body. He thought the bath was heaven... no, these towels had it beat. His eyes trailed over the cloth, stopping once to look at it closer, examining the fibers. "{Pure cotton?}" he questioned, looking to Nona, asking for an answer with a light shake of the cloth in her direction. "Mmm... Maide off?" His words came out slowly and just as awkward as ever, no doubt gaining a laugh or two of the guards. He had heard their language spoken plenty of times, but he hadn't been able to pick up more words than the common ones used by traders. 'Made of' was one they would always return to their language for. Though he had never spoken it, he could recognize it instantly, along with several of their terms for materials. So much for not understanding them. Tirnel wasn't a child, after all. He had his fair share of interactions with humans.

Once Tirnel had an answer to his question, he continued to dry himself off before reaching for his clothing.
 
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