my fellow arlorians

[ilhanna]

Krispy can be squishy(I had a very crispy parantha wrap with squishy mutton filling today!)!!!

A gingerbread complexion or nott, we have found ourselves wrestling opening the jaws of an Arlorian with a sever case of the crunchies. The maw of a warrior who hasn't brushed for a decade or two is nott the best place to be!

You overestimate, if not outright exaggerate, the edibility quotient of your kind. Even the simplest of village idiots in Arlor had had it so inculcated that "eating blues gives you the blues". Might I suggest a career switch as it is quite apparent from your statement that being a dental hygienist at the warrior barracks is not the wisest option given your diminutive stature. I can assure you that Arlorians, accustomed to, nay, spoiled by such smorgasbord that include coffee-infused tres leches cake, key lime pie, macarons, custard-filled puff pastries, banoffee pies, all sorts of brownies and fudges and cookies, even such exotic items like baklava, and baked Alaska, etc etc would have to be either drunk as a skunk or blackmailed before even considering to take a tiny nibble at a Nott.

If career switch is out of the question, might I suggest dressing up as a durian. The thorny skin will deter any (theoretical) attempt to bite, and some people find the fruit's perfume too overpowering so they will keep their distance. Of course if you happen to run across a durian aficionado, especially one with a hefty dagger that looks like it might cleave through durian skin like hot knife through butter, Gale away.

[ilhanna]

Notts do nott need dentists, there is no need for a health industry here. Neither do we provide healthcare to Arlorians who decide to come to this dimension(we tell them because we are nott good at it but the real reason is they would never leave!).

If I had a gold coin for each blueberry cheesecake or a macaroon with any hue of blue being devoured in front of me while I was visiting Arlor, lets just I would trump the richest of Arlorian merchs!

Only a nott knows the plight of having to deal with a delirious Arlorian who wants to go all the walking hungry on you.

This is probably why we don't have politics too in this side of the dimensions, the only way to choose leaders is via a dance off! Your veil of shadows and deciet has been pierced!

Ah, I understand now. It's a classic, textbook case of baconomania, a delusion that one is irresistibly edible to other species. Nott psychotherapists describe it as a kind of hysteria attributed to the corruption brought on by the Inan H'esh invasion which had transformed the formerly shy and secretive Shuyal wolves into cunning and aggressive packs, to the dismay of many Notts who used to pride themselves on not being part of the food chain before. While the condition is rare nowadays, the occasional cases are still discovered, often a pernicious one left long untreated. Many still remember the Nott who ran around the Expedition Camp one night, slathered from top to leg stubs in chocolate ganache, screaming, "Cut me open! I'm layered on the side! Taste my moccha buttercream! Come on! Let me see you say no to my espresso-drenched sponge layers!"