I'll Make You Wet, Girl [KOINE]{closed}

“Honestly, why must you be so immature?”

“Noooot my fault! That bird was askin’ f’it, Fen, and hey, din I tell you that there was somefink off bout it all? So shut up,”

The wyrm hovered at Alaren’s shoulder, indignantly flapping his large wings, buffeting the half-elf who was currently climbing up a sheer wall. Simple stuff, really, but if you account for the sack on his back, there was a minor speed decrease. Shameful.

Needless to say, Alan was still sour about that fire girl from two hours before, and had publically vowed revenge. In normal circumstances, Fenliel would have been all gung-ho about avenging honour and stuff like that, but this time he was relatively meek. The wyrm knew that he had said something horribly wrong, and this was the consequence. An angsty Alaren and a heavy conscience. A! What a fiasco. He could only look on, since his charge was far beyond reason.

What had occurred two hours past was this: Alan had sulked away from the scene with his little dragon right by his side, leaving the girl behind. Fenliel had put in little bursts of rationality and scolding here and there, but had mostly stayed quiet. For his part, the half-elf’s mind had been whirling for approximately a millisecond to formulate a counterattack. They had gone back to Tempest early, Alan cheerily telling his classmates that he wasn’t feeling well (none of them had seen his little embarrassment). Once back, he had swiftly gathered a bucket, lots of tripwire, glue, two balloon shells (one red, one black!), a clear bag full of ice cubes, and a big closed jug of cold water. When early evening fell (while waiting Alaren had taken a nap; Fenliel was rather dumbstruck as to this course of action), he had snuck back to Maelstrom with his things in a sack, as silent and inconspicuous as a fall leaf in a forest. Fen had been forced to fly high above to avoid drawing attention to the half-elf.

Which brings us back to the current situation, with Alan prowling up a wall to get to the girl’s dorm window, the whereabouts of which he found out by having Fen creep into the building and scout things out (basically smell for burnt stuff). Luckily, no one had spotted a figure climbing up the wall yet, and it was probably going to stay that way until Alaren made it back home.

“Right, here it is! This floor, this room, you’re sure of it?” Panting slightly because of the things in his bag weighing him down, he half turned his head to face Fen, indicating the window in front of him with his eyes. It might be notable to mention that the building was made out of brick, and Alaren was quite literally hanging on by his fingernails (this wasn’t new to him though).

“Yes, it is this room. Please, Elandili,” One more lobby could not hurt now, could it? “Reconsider,”

Alaren was silently picking the window’s lock. Fenliel sighed and gave up. Hopefully the situation would dissolve into juvenile fun at some point. After all, tricks like these made his charge’s life, so there was no way the boy could hate someone and yet play pranks on them at the same time, right?

The window promptly slid open and Alan climbed in, the weary wyrm following behind.

After twenty minutes they left and crept back to Tempest, Alaren light on his feet once more.

Meanwhile, in the poor fire spirit’s room: a bucket top full of water was standing precariously on the little outcropping of the door’s frame, expertly positioned, ready to fall on the opener at any moment. About two steps after that was a tripwire that connected to two water balloons on each side of the room, which were also connected to tripwires that were glued to the ceiling. Upon breaking the tripwire on the floor, which one can do by simply pushing against it with one’s foot, the balloons are angled to swing in and burst directly on the target. The bed was lined with ice cubes and covered by the cover, looking perfectly innocent. If the victim went to bed late, the mattress would still be soaked to the core. Everything in the room was untouched, and you really could not tell that there had been a devilish, elvish breaking-and-entering.

“You unlucky lass. Messing with me, Alaren Wreath, bane of all Magatia’s parents, half-flippin’-elf, and water-based Cancer. Today is not your lucky day.”