@maskedrxder-blog / maskedrxder-blog.tumblr.com
ooc; On a more positive note I’m planning to shift my focus back to this blog rather than my affiliated one, as this is where my ‘roots’ are if you will. I plan to keep threads with Lucina and Inigo, and probably dropping the rest in favour of starting up new stuff again. I’ve gained a tone of followers in my absence, which I need to sort through and follow back ect, edit my pages and theme that’s still a work in progress. BUT I wanna start things again so like this for a shortish starter?
RELIEF follows what appeared to her as contentment from the wyvern, bringing forth a smile upon her lips. And she intends to convey her thanks, half opening her mouth to speak till she finds Minerva’s head is lifted, eyes opened and directed elsewhere… Surprise upon her features, she’d not expected to find him here, or perhaps she should’ve, yet it was simply that she’d not thought him to be around, and watching… For how long, she wonders?
She is silent, surprised gaze meeting his glance, but with a smile to follow that he voices the wyvern’s approval. "Yes, well… I’ve been thinking. It seems I’ve known her for as long as I’ve known you, and yet I’ve not attempted to speak to her in the same manner as you do. Truthfully it’s a shame I haven’t till now… I wished to understand her better, and this time to know her opinion of us. If this was all right." Turning to Minerva once more,
"Thank you, Minerva. This approval of yours… You won’t regret it, this I swear to you."
None chose to speak to her as he did because apparently it was an acquired skill, yet really all it took was time spent in her presence to learn her mannerisms. This is why he can wholly appreciate her attempt, whether she could truly learn to understand his wyvern or not didn't really matter, her intentions were enough. Regardless, Minerva had always been fond of her so there was no doubt that she would approve. "It's good to know you understand who exactly you're courting," there weren't many that had strings attached quite like he did.
The wyvern in question eyes the princess after her statement, as if she were saying I'll hold you to these words, then proceeded to turn her attentions elsewhere, namely at the apples he'd brought with him earlier.
"I'm curious though...what if she had said no?" And while he knows she wouldn't have, Lucina must have considered the possibility. To anyone looking in on the conversation it may seem strange, yet to him Minerva was family, the only family he had, she was far more than a mount for battle.
Gerome had hit the bullseye with that, as the loss of his parents was still, of course, quite a sensitive subject for the young mercenary, despite his carefree appearance. Though his father and he had never fully understood each other, he had mourned the loss, yet it was his mother’s death that truly destroyed the dancer. Memories came back to him, as they often did, of dancing at her grave long after she was gone, trying to come up with the perfect ending to the dance she never got to finish teaching him. As the wyvern rider continues, Inigo’s snowy head ducks down as if in respect or prayer, and slim fingers flex tensely at his sides. Why indeed? It seemed so unnecessarily cruel and simply unnecessary for such things to happen, yet Inigo still clung to the belief that they didn’t have to happen—that they didn’t have to look forward to more of the same. If he didn’t look forward to that, what was there to believe in?
”Very well…” Inigo says at last, and though his hands rest on his hips again, he still stares at the ground as if he was searching for something he dropped. “Lucina is not a conquest, I know it well.” Truly he did, for though some times he may speak of and to her like she truly was just another woman, Inigo did hold a deep respect for her. He would oft ask himself when he was caught, unhappily, alone, if he would have done the same—rallied an army however small to try and perform the impossible, and the answer always came to no. He would have continued to dance in secret and mourn his mother until the end of time, yet the princess had done the impossible. “She deserves far more.”
And yet he found himself wondering what would evoke such a smile that didn’t involve physically pulling the corners of her lips until she did, and Inigo couldn’t seem to evoke any such reaction from the woman. Another breath, and manicured fingers find his hair, teasing it and twirling it around one knuckle.
”Gerome, do you truly think we can win this? That we can change the future?”
There was no use covering the truth with prettied up words and exclamations that everything would be fine if they merely believed it. People like that always ended up dead, and as much as Inigo toyed with his patience he'd rather he remain alive. They had to be practical, sensible and steel themselves for the worse until this terrible business was over with. There was nothing wrong with optimism, but blind faith was dangerous. They knew that better than most, he'd wholly believed his parents were invincible, that nothing could defeat them, if he simply believed that then what could stop them? Then reality came knocking and that ideology crumbled.
A light exhale follows, the hallow eyes of his mask trained on the others visage. None of his inquires had been answered, because he'd undoubtedly spoken the truth, as painful as it was. He'd thought to walk away as it seemed he wasn't going to receive a response, a step back indicated as much until Inigo finally spoke and he ceases movement temporarily. "Then practice what you preach, aren't you the one who says how others perceive us outwardly is important?" That wearing a smile, even if you felt at your worst, was crucial to keep others going. "Express your respect…I'd wager that would work far better than the ridiculous facade you put up." Perhaps he ought take his own advice, but that was a discussion for another day.
A brow raises as his next question comes as a surprise somewhat. Most knew his opinions on such things, yet few truly knew how he felt about it. Over the course of his time here his beliefs had begun to shift, slowly yet surely. Yet some uncertainty remained, as it should.
"...I don't know, nothing is ever certain," he could not weave words to make him feel better, to offer some hope. That wasn't his role. "I only know that I refuse to let my parents die again, and I trust Lucina's judgement...that is all I have." Whether that would lead them to a brighter future or to ruin was yet to be seen.
you were my S U N my M O O N & S T A R S but the moment i looked at you, i started to shake my head and laugh. how foolish am i, to not realize that all this time, you were my U N I V E R S E.
WAS she to think it strange, the way her heart flutters at the closeness he provides? She thinks to inquire of his words, but perhaps she needn’t communicate that her thoughts would drift to his whereabouts, to what he could be doing each minute of the day they were apart. Her own smile is triggered by the brightened one he shows. The pause to admire is reciprocated, and strangely enough she feels herself about to inquire, but he speaks just before she’d thought it right to conclude he had something in mind to say.
Brows lift with curiosity, then. "Finding the words…?" A small smile is present before she continues. "You need only speak plainly, in however manner you wish, as always. But now you have me quite curious… What is it?"
It's then that he realises he has to repeat the words he'd been practicing and suddenly he becomes quite nervous and a barrage of 'what ifs' crash through his mind. What if she said no? What if now wasn't the right time? Was it even fair to ask? Was he even ready for such things? How does one know if they are? His throat is dry and his heartbeat wont cease the increased gallop it's gone into, and he fears she would hear.
"Er right..." speak plainly like he always did, if only it were so simple. A deep intake of breath follows as he releases his arms from her waist, only to intertwine her hand with his, needing that contact as he makes to gather the words he wished to say. "I understand how rough my edges are, and how I may not have the warmest touch or be able to say these words as such but..." A brief pause as he takes to kneel on one knee before her, understanding why it was this position he should take, as if he was willing to plead to remain in her life forever. "I'm yours, and I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy, to see you smile, to build the life you should have always had...and so with this I would ask..." revealing the ring he'd purchased many months ago. "Lucina I..."
doodled this earlier before work and colored it after :’) my twitter is nothing but ot3 hell so have two versions. my treat
The holiday season for me, as well as for others, is a time for family and friends of all kinds. It is for giving, cheer, and laughter. Not everyone celebrates the same holidays or holds the same opinions and values but everyone on this list is someone who means something to me. On this list are people I am proud to call close friends, people who I sparse speak with but still manage to light up my day, and people who I do not know at all but who I still adore and will approach in time, certainly. Thank you to each and every one of you for all your support not only with this blog (and my one million others) but for helping make this hobby one worth keeping around. Know that even if you are not on this list, you are greatly appreciated and you are special. Happy Holidays to all! <3
These are the folks who have stood by me for a long time. Friends I hold dear that probably know all too well how often I gush about them. Too bad if you don’t like it because it is going to happen again right now. These are friends who I talk with often, write with frequently, and adore so much. I cannot imagine this community without them. Hover over the crowns for messages.
archestry / enveigle ♕ handsomeleague ♕ loveslargebananas ♕ cupkekie / edealy ♕ maskedrxder / koraavas ♕ fatesresignation ♕ dipendette / cavaliette ♕ genrouzan ♕
Those who I have started to grow close to or have always lingered there and admired but never quite gotten closer. You are all people I love and yearn to know better both in writing and in friendship. Never let it slip your mind that this mega nerd loves you all a lot. <3
huxngdi ♘ iuravitx / iustitae ♘ geminaextactics ♘ winkchain ♘ winterbuns ♘ restorance ♘ sanguinetactics ♘ eyebrand ♘ iniquitas ♘ steelhart / invadxrlum ♘ hymnbound ♘ whorxifying / exultatione ♘ plegiandarkmage ♘ traitoriisms ♘ kouyuus ♘ resonater ♘ divelsi ♘ fluerea ♘ forensiclove ♘ arthurus ♘ unseenseal / abdicet ♘ untamedkitsunen ♘ nanami-kami ♘ loquensexflores
Awful puns aside given that I refuse to call any of you my pawns but it fits with my dumb chess theme… I don’t know you guys too well but you matter a lot to me. You are great writers and seem like magnificent people but we’ve yet to start stepping towards friendship. You matter no less than anyone above, you all matter a lot and I hope we all have the chance to get to know each another better.
kreissxmas ♙ txcitus ♙ giiingerbread ♙ xdosei ♙ backlacebitch ♙ enlxght ♙ dividia ♙ ofhealings ♙ schneeun ♙ jixnchi ♙ edhelernil ♙ sparefleurs ♙ lumierx ♙ veilled ♙ novaruum ♙ hiotsukeru ♙ grishildr ♙ horosuru ♙ gaiafleur ♙ bladeblooded ♙ innovteur ♙ winteirs
SHE isn’t entirely certain what she was expecting; it’s not as though a voice would speak into her head—an ideal feat it would have been to achieve such recognition to the screech, but she’ll have to attempt translation through other, more realistic means. Involuntarily she blinks at the hot air blown into her face, and mayhap it is only that she’d stayed her ground with persistence to understand that she feels as though… the screech was not meant with anger, nor was it intended to push her away?
That she was moving closer and within arm’s reach she extends a hand carefully, looking the wyvern in the eyes as if to make certain of granted permission before she reaches out to touch her head.
"Am I to take this to mean that you approve?"
It was mostly about gestures and learning them, and after so long he need only glance to be able to understand her. Although perhaps there truly was more to it, that they had been together so long that he just understood, as did his mother. Minerva meets her hand halfway, a soft rumble from her throat erupts and eyes momentarily close, a sign that she was content. It's only when he takes a single step forward does she open them again, head lifted towards him. As he reaches Lucina's side, a brief glance towards her before his own hand extends to his wyvern.
"She approves," although even Lucina could have understood that much. "I'm actually a little...surprised to find you here, or rather surprised to hear you speaking with Minerva," as very few even tried.
"It seems I’ve known you for about as long as I’ve known him, yes?" And her words are but spoken to confirm that she has known of his trusted companion all her life. In truth she’s long wondered how they were able to communicate, though perhaps particularly how Gerome was able to do so and understand her. "But I fear we’ve never properly spoken, or rather… I’ve not properly spoken to you. I can’t rightfully ask for your blessing if I cannot even claim to understand you in full." Though she’s almost certain her skill to decipher Minerva’s roars and screeches (if even existing) was very little at best, she’ll certainly not give up before she makes proper attempts. Clearing her throat she takes a breath before she speaks.
“Now, if I may ask… Do you approve of this? Of… Of us being together like this?”
He's not the sort to eavesdrop but when he approaches the wyvern paddocks and hears a familiar voice, he's compelled to remain yet not make his presence known. At first he's a little perplexed that she should attempt to speak with Minerva when she'd never done so before, but it soon shifts into contentment that she should think to ask her. The wyvern herself takes notice of Lucina, yellow eyes trained on her visage. She moves from her position, only to snort hot air into the princesses face, blowing blue strands of hair back.
Of course he knows what she means by such an act, but chooses to stay quiet for a while longer. Following her rather playful behaviour she releases a screech, unpleasant to most ears, before carefully inching closer to be in arms reach.
Basorexia
Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss.
He's kissed her a hundred times. Kissed away her tears, grazed her lips in comfort, pressed against her neck with desire and marked every surface and every curve. A kiss to say we'll meet again and a kiss to signify their union, to say they were bonded for life. Each time was electric, each time felt like the first. Seeing her standing alone, the tall mountains surrounding their home, and the moon high to illuminate her figure. Stars shine bright in clear skies, but she is the one to shine brightest. She's quick to notice his presence, and when a smile graces her lips nothing in the universe can compare. That such a smile would be for him, words cannot fathom how blessed he feels.
She beckons him with outstretched arms, lithe fingers to lock with his. He really did wish he was a poet, to recount her beauty with words and express her innermost loveliness. He feels a little foolish thinking such things, yet she brought it out of him time and time again that he's learned to accept it. That it's all right to feel this way, to want to feel this way. She brought about that change, the want to love again and because he is no poet he can only express his love through actions. She understands, she knows that each kiss, each touch means more than words could ever say. Bottom lip is tugged between teeth as he eyes the natural shine her lips possess, and that want is ever present. Hands unlink and fingertips dance across her skin, trailing up her sides and arms to rest on her neck. He gives in wholeheartedly, a kiss to her forehead, above her eyelids, on her cheeks and to her collarbone. Each one said I love you so, so, so much and when lips meet fire erupts within.
Soft, deep and filled with every ounce of feeling he could muster. After all the years of locking himself away, perhaps now he's making up for it, for all the times he pushed her out. And now he wants nothing more than to have her close, to let her know. Yet he'll never stop feeling this way about her, that fire would never cease, that desire would remain and his love would stay alight until his last breath.
Mamihlapinatapei B) I don't need to send the pairing name do I
Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.
Glances are all he's ever allowed himself to have, brief glimpses and momentary thoughts for the woman that had grasped so firmly onto his heart. It didn't bode well to cling onto such feelings, a distraction, that's what he told himself when truthfully he was too afraid. Too afraid to love again, to admit to a feeling he'd long discarded or believed to have done so. Yet he thinks he's always loved her, but he'd not let it win over, because if he does she'd be taken away, that's how the world worked after all. Being in love made you irrational, made you do things you'd normally not do, dreadful things sometimes. It was dangerous, it was stupid, it went against everything he believed and yet...
When they search for her lost pendant, the intricately carved piece is spotted upon the dirtied ground, tarnished somewhat but mendable. He thinks he's the one to spot it but when he bends down to take the chain between his fingers he's caught in a mismatched gaze. The tips of his fingers brush ever so slightly across her knuckles as she too made to reach for the pendant.
Silently locked with her eyes, and though his remain hidden she pierces through the material veil with ease. Yet not with a harshness, but the kindness she radiated even through times of such horror. But something else lingers there, a longing, a hope that he might speak and say what neither could. Lips thinned, and he fears she need not touch to feel his heartbeat race, or to know the feelings that lay beyond his cover. Perhaps part of him knows she feels something for him, but it's overshadowed by the part that thinks she deserves better than him. The moment seems to last forever, however his is the gaze to falter first as he looks away, wordless, picking up the lost jewellery with care. They rise and he's swift in handing it back to her, finding it difficult to meet her eyes again. Because when he does he's utterly lost, nothing makes sense and he feels so completely exposed...it's terrifying yet brings forth a warmth within his chest that he wants to hold onto. Perhaps one day he would tell her, meet her bare faced and lay his heart out to her regardless of consequences. Because as much as he denied it, as much as he pushed it away...he did love her.
AND when he places soft kisses down her neck there erupts a happy sigh, a tingling sensation running down her back like a charge wrought of fire when she hears his voice. Hands placed upon his chest would raise themselves to the back of his neck, fingers weaving through short lengths of crimson whilst she speaks. "Mm… I wouldn’t want this to require much reason, I suppose." And though a chuckle succeeds her words, close enough as they currently were she now realizes how she herself had missed his presence. How she’d missed having him this close…
“I trust you’ve been well?” Hands gently sliding back down his chest. "I missed you."
There's a sense of pride that he was capable of bringing forth such reactions, that simple touches evoked such feelings. A content sigh passes as her lithe fingers idly play with strands of hair, placing a kiss to her shoulder before returning to meet her gaze. "Then you need never ask," if no reason was needed he would provide unconditionally. The hands at her hips press further around her waist, lifting her smaller frame up ever so slightly so their faces became level, strong arms securing her position.
"Mhm, or as well as can be" with you not here he almost says but even he realises how overly mushy that would sound. "And I you," if that wasn't completely obvious, yet her words brighten the subtle smile currently present. There's a short pause as he takes the opportunity to admire her, it seems silly to wonder how she can be real but he does. "...There's something I've been meaning to ask you, for a while in truth, I suppose finding the words took me some time." It's been on his mind since Grima fell, and the entire time she's been away he's been practicing, as foolish as he thinks it is.
ζ:...they were angry at your muse.
He notices right away when it's missing, everyday it would adorn his face and every night he'd know exactly where he placed it so he could find it come morning. Yet when he returns to his tent after washing away the soreness around his eyes from lack of sleep, it's gone. He caught perhaps two or three hours of rest, during that time something or someone stole his mask. Who would even do such a thing? What purpose was there, no one else in this encampment wore a mask or even had any interest in them…until recently that is. Immediately he thinks he knows who the culprit is, she'd been bothering him about them the other day. She'd wanted to make her own for whatever reason and had been inquiring about how he made his or where he got them from, he hadn't answered and he supposed this was the price he had to pay.
He doesn't feel right leaving his tent without it on, but he refuses to wear the numerous replicas he had, they were pale in comparison, the craftsmanship was awful. Swift strides easily find the young tactician in the mess tent, having attained a whole table to herself where she'd spread out all kinds of tools and materials. And sure enough there was his mask…on her face. Footsteps alert her to his presence, he can tell she's about to say something but he doesn't give her the chance to.
With all skill possible he quickly removes the ebon mask and returns it to where it belonged, not allowing her the chance to argue or turn away. He doesn't even think he needs to say anything, he's clearly irritated and without words gloved fingers flick her directly on the forehead, right between her eyes. He leaves promptly right after. You don't just take a gentleman's mask.
I just wanna say never be afraid to reach out to blogs you like. seriously. you are never a bother to that mun - who is going to feel bothered when someone reaches out with kind words and soft hugs? everybody appreciates seeing their ask box light up, and then to find the words 'i love ur blog omg' is just enough to make people do those giddy wriggle dances and stuff like ten oreos in their mouths at once. or maybe thats just me. idk. the point is - don’t be afraid lovely, be you. say hi, ask questions, get to know them, rp with them, interact!
worse case scenario: they dont have oreos to stuff in their mouth OR they dont know the giddy wiggle dance, in which case you should direct them to me and i’ll teach them.
ρ (⊙ꇴ⊙)
ρ:...they want to bother/tease your muse.
Often they would read together, mostly he would read aloud as she listened, no doubt she enjoyed her parents reading stories to her when she was a child as he recalls his doing the same. There was something comforting about it, and as the days drew ever closer to when they must depart from Ylisse, every ounce of comfort was needed. And as her husband he’d do anything to provide that security, that reassurance that everything will be all right. He knows he cannot make up for the parents she’ll leave behind, but he would dedicate everything to her happiness.
Despite being the one to usually recite their chosen book, she offers this time and he has no qualms as they settle down. She rests on her back, hair spilling across the white pillows and lithe fingers flip through the pages. He lays on his side next to her, chin situated above her shoulder. Her voice was often commanding and powerful, to direct her soldiers and give orders. Yet opposite that she possessed a softness that exemplified her truly kind nature.
Although he finds himself focused on her words, the princess herself garners all his attention rather than the story that was being read. He’d memorised every inch of her, every surface, all the healed scars, scattered freckles and hardened skin that warring built. None to be called blemishes as they all made up the woman he loved. So his mind wanders, filled with thoughts of her, she who was concentrating on pronouncing the words from the book he currently cared very little about at this point. Red eyes burn into her features as if to will her to look at him, yet she’s so engrossed in reading that he goes unnoticed.
That’s when the arm idly draped over her midriff snakes under silken fabric for fingertips to feel the muscles along her stomach. He never thought himself the teasing sort but desiring her attention threw that usually self controlled persona out the window. The action gathers her attention as she promptly stops reading to eye him. There’s feigned annoyance in her expression, that soon morphs into an almost salacious gaze and the book is snapped shut. They’d always communicated well without words, glances and subtle touches conveyed so much more for two people who oft found it difficult to express themselves through speech.
However, perhaps he bit off more than he could chew as the book is carefully discarded and with some quick repositioning she’s facing him, blushed lips dancing tantalisingly close to his. She could be surprisingly devious when it suited her, swiftly turning the situation around so now his was the reddened face, as candlelight is extinguished and darkness blankets the room. They never did reach the books conclusion in the end.
