- [ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair from maxima to brasidas, make the man look like the neatest killer in the ball
meme
He's gone weeks ( months, really ) without a gentle touch beyond a pat on the back — and, truly, he was fine with that; is fine with that. It's very much a part of the reality he lives when he's out there, protecting and promoting Sparta's interests. It's what he was raised to endure, and he'd have it no other way.
A domestic life in the safety of four walls and a roof overhead was no life at all to him. It'll likely never be more than a welcome reprieve between campaigns.
Well, there might be more than that to it these days. It's not just a break from battle now — it's attending accursed banquets at his intended's side; spending languid hour after languid hour basking in her gardens, accompanied by fine wine and food ( at her insistence! ); and ... this, whatever this is.
If pressed, he'd have to admit to not minding any of it — the gentle carding through his hair, the light scrape of her nails along his scalp. Were he less disciplined a man, he might've crooned his contentment then and there. Such as it is, however, he ... does — much to his surprise and disgruntlement alike.
In a mere instant, he corrects himself, cutting off the hum and settling for a clearing of his throat.
He turns his head just far enough to catch a glimpse of Maxima's face from the farthest corner of his eye. 'That feels nice,' he'd like to say. Instead, after a lengthy silence on his end, he only manages: ❛ Almost done? ❜
[ silence ] 🤫
meme
Two plastic chairs he bought days ago sit atop his trailer, each occupied. On the right sits V, piecing together the obscure tidbits of information he can find on constructs, the Relic — all under the guise of simply browsing; distracting himself.
On his left sits So Mi, reading a book — of actual paper. Old school, he'd called it, to which she retorted not everything needs to be wired to be worth their time. She had a point, and so he'd nodded in assent, smiling that type of smile only seen when legitimately impressed.
That was about an hour ago. Since then, he's scooted his chair a little closer to her twice — under the pretence that he just wanted to see what she was reading. To some degree, he did, if only to learn what she was into; what relaxed her. More importantly, though, more honestly, at that: he just wanted to sit a little closer to her.
She's since placed her legs onto his lap, so casually, having adjusted the angle of her chair in relation to his minutes ago. The only thing keeping him from resting his hand on her shin is that age-old hyperawareness of his; the shame in not only initiating touch, but even returning it in any way beyond the passive.
He unplugs from the net, shutting all windows in favour of soaking up the feeling of her proximity even in the face of his longing for just a little more. The sight of the sun setting over the Badlands, reaching towards and across the city, is an added bonus — and a welcome one in his endeavour to take his mind off his pining.
His eyes slip shut as he lets the citrine light wash over him, lighting the right side of his face and leaving its left counterpart in shadow. The white of his shirt takes on an orange undertone; likewise the plastic armrests occupied by his forearms and hands.
His mind's on the comfortable weight of So Mi's lower legs on his thighs, however — still, despite his intentions to focus on the sinking sun. He needs no practice in restraint, so he doesn't need to take this as an occasion to do so. In fact, he hesitates to even let himself enjoy the sensation, wondering if even that constitutes a transgression, notwithstanding its existence being limited to his own mind.
A sigh escapes him as he tries to untangle his thoughts. Maybe he should've tired himself out on the net.
Or maybe he should turn his head to look at So Mi in search of his next distraction. He yields to that compulsion, finding her eyes on his already, assessing him from below two arched eyebrows.
❛ Sorry. Feelin' restless. ❜
'That's what this was all about.'
Right. He grins again, acknowledging the tenacity of his inability to sit still — with her, with himself, with his rumination.
❛ Hrm ... Fine. ❜ Another pause ensues, this one spent holding a breath at the top of what've otherwise manifested as another sigh. The darkening skyline of the megapolis draws his gaze towards it. Or, more likely: his reluctance to drink in the sight of So Mi's sunbathed features for fear of what that might say about him and his feelings compels him to look west again.
❛ You're good company to practice sittin' restlessly with, at least. ❜
- [ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls from v. to v. gender neutral bathrooms let's go
meme
❛ I will literally pay you to stop cautionin' me about Songbird. ❜ Typical that his implied complaint comes with a side of toilet-flushing sounds a few stalls away. The ensuing silence is broken by the zipper of his jeans coming down, and all that naturally follows.
'Sure, she's got a pretty face — big doe eyes, pouty lips I know you go all soft-hearted for, but do I really gotta tell ya not to be fooled by all that?' he hears from the other side of the barrier between Viv's and his stalls.
Vince doesn't respond; not for Viv to see or hear, at least. He shakes his head only, suppressing a sigh ( directed mainly at himself for all his naivety ). He realizes all too well she's got a point. He should keep some semblance of distance, at least, but he's instead all too eager to dive headlong into whatever Songbird has ready for him, for them — because somehow, he feels he can just trust her.
Maybe he'll be designated the class clown for it once the end of their collaboration rolls around, yet he's growing more convinced by the day that this won't be the case. He'll get to tell Viv and Val 'told you so' before all is said and done.
❛ Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before. I'm gettin' better at it though, aren't I? Scepticism and all that? ❜
'Sure, until you go all googly heart-eyes 'cause you're attracted to someone. Fuckin' gonk.'
❛ Fuck off. I've got a gut feelin' here. ❜
''Member what I said a while ago? Take your gut feelin' with a massive grain of salt — you of all people.'
He won't. He knows he won't. The current of his fascination with Songbird and her promise is too overwhelming for him to posit himself as some ... deeply-rooted rock, stable and unmoving. He's never been like that, and he won't be anytime soon — not even at Viv's insistence.
❛ Good thing I got you to dump a whole bag of salt on me when I inevitably fail to do as told, huh? ❜
He pulls up his zipper, flushes, and rushes off to wash his hands ( literally, and of this conversation ). ❛ When you're done shittin' all over me and the toilet, meet me outside. I'm gonna scope out the black market for a new silencer. ❜
forgive me. i didn’t mean to imply anything. (mr. chandler)
meme
She's not the first to express prejudice against him solely for being American, and as much as it irks him – just as it did when the good doctor thought it his place to comment on the culling taking place back home – he bites his tongue this time. She, unlike Frankenstein, didn't seem to harbour any ill intentions towards him personally by asking questions.
Even if she did, he wouldn't have been able to condemn her for it. His home is in a sorry state, in no small part due to men like himself. He might've left that life behind now ( run from it, more like ), but the damage was done — a trail of carnage spread from east to west; a spectacle of terror for all the world to see and judge.
Really, he doesn't blame the stranger for implying there's more malice in the likes of him than whom those same people label as 'cruel'. Maybe he's more bothered by the mistaken naivety it took for him to think that out here, he could outrun his past; the part he played in the atrocities back home.
❛ It's fine if you did mean to imply somethin', Miss, ❜ he assures, only lifting his eyes off the sprawling park before them after. They land on the woman beside him, a respectable distance away on the same bench. His derby sits between them. ❛ You might not've been entirely off-target, either. ❜
American — genocidal. He was once, for lack of knowing any better; for having shit for brains until ... Best not think about it anymore.
❛ I never caught your name, Miss ... ? ❜
no, it was fun! great, even. i just … it didn’t feel real … 🥺
meme
He's been told he underestimates himself. Part of him might even acknowledge that on a good day — and today was good; is good, for all intents and purposes. His self-doubt just manages to cast a shadow on the precious few things in life he enjoys, and that includes what little time he spends with So Mi.
Then again: define 'little' in this context. The truth is, he tries to spend every free minute he can with her, somehow — whether it be in person, through a call, or even a quick text. His interest in her company lately stems from more than an enthusiasm to tackle his issue from a new angle only she could devise ...
Perhaps the simple truth is he can't get enough of her despite his reservations, and that sure has a way of making him feel like there aren't enough hours in a day to sate his interest in her.
Ah, it's always been like this: things go presumably well, he overthinks it, downplays every element he originally felt good about, and turns it into a self-fulfilling prophecy by talking it to death.
So Mi nips that routine in the bud before he can turn things into a major bummer, though. Somehow, when she refutes his self-deprecation ( 'that probably wasn't as much fun as I made it out to be earlier' ), he believes her. He believes her, because she tacks on an admission of her own — a vulnerability, in a way.
He turns his gaze away from her for a moment, rubbing at the scruff along his chin.
❛ In the "wow, that was unreal" sorta way, or the "I'm dissociating so hard right now, I can't feel my fingers anymore" sense? Or maybe I'm missin' an interpretation here, ❜ he yields, giving way to the apparently universally acknowledged fact that, yes, there are shades of grey.
No matter the answer to his question, he knows what the truth is to him, at least. It leads him nearer her again, scooting closer along the railing they'd both taken to leaning on. His left elbow touches her right first, not long after which he straightens, her hand ( all RealSkinn now ) captured by his ( all chrome and carbon fiber tese days ). As he pivots, he pulls her along, coaxing.
It feels far too brazen for his liking, but something in him – maybe the memories of the breezy touches she herself has extended to him so far – convinces him it's probably fine.
For a moment, he rests his gaze on how their hands look together, held between them at navel-height — hers held in his, the black of his thumb idly sweeping across the back of her palm just once. He wonders if his touch feels as awful to her as the knowledge that he'll never regain his skin again does to him. All the same, he withholds from retreating ( selfishly, he thinks; he just wants to lean into the flutter that erupts below his diaphragm for a moment longer — just one moment ).
❛ To me, life somehow feels realest when I'm around you. ❜ Another pause, just long enough to lift his green eyes to hers, flecked with amber. A grin suddenly pulls at the corners of his mouth. ❛ Somethin' about ya just zaps the senses, I guess. ❜
- [ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair from the priestess to sylvan, do they both have very close to shaved heads? maybe but also mind your business! I need this!
meme
It's not unlike them to return bloody from their field trips — their attempts at getting him to feed properly, while keeping in check the voracious hunger that would tip him over the edge without supervision. He'd still rather not do any of this. Foregoing to hunt at the expense of his strength and vitality still seems like the only right choice to him.
Because it's exhausting, fighting his nature in the throes of the hunt — to take a nibble ( one man who was due a reaping ), when there's a whole buffet out there ( a city full of innocents a mile or two away ).
It must be exhausting for the priestess, too, this never-ending shepherding of the monster stowed away in the man she loves. She doesn't need to say the words for him to understand, to feel the affection she has for him. It's all right there, threaded into the fine line she walks between respecting his boundaries, his morals, and encouraging him to consider the adjacent shades of grey.
Would you rather starve before your son's eyes, than take the life of one that's killed for less than sustenance?
She nows exactly how to get through to him. His abstinence from proper nourishment, in hindsight, feels lazy: it was the easiest way to avoid the onerous battle with himself — day in, day out.
The guilt and self-condemnation never fails to catch up with him after these outings of theirs, though. He still prefers the diseased source's he's been drawing from so far; those that had just passed, or would soon enough. It made him sick, but at least he wouldn't starve.
It's all too easy to sink into these ruminations while washing off. The thoughts stick with him as he transfers from the shower into the bath, though. He intends to soak for a good while, and stew in his doubt.
Two minutes pass, and the door behind him opens. His head lolls back, because he knows who it is: the priestess, seeking to cushion the blows he's dealing himself — at least to some extent. She's not the type to sugarcoat or tell a white lie for another's benefit, not even his. She mitigates the pain in other ways.
From his upside-down perspective, his cranium leaning against the edge of the tub, he watches her pop open a bottle of shampoo, imbued with rosemary oil, as he recalls it.
Correctly, as it turns out. Once she's worked up a lather in the short-yet-too-long beginnings of his curls, the scent hits him, almost as soothingly as the ministrations across his scalp. She sits behind the edge he's leaning against, balancing on a low stool. He usually places a clean set of clothes on there while showering; she must've done away with it for now.
❛ Thank you, ❜ Sylvan murmurs at length, his eyes shut. ❛ You're spoiling me. ❜ You're too good for me, actually — but he knows she won't have any of that. She, in turn, might know what he actually means all the same.
He decides to breeze past it before she can latch onto it. His eyes crack open, a languid smile stretching just far enough to reach the corners of his eyes. ❛ Won't you join me in here? Gets awful lonely in this big tub. ❜
[ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off - for aerendyl ☺️
meme
He expected heat to permeate his skin. In a sense, it did — it does, still, in the tone of a faint blush, rather than directly from her fingertips. Touch itself hardly flusters him, at least not when it's anticipated, bestowed by someone he's come to expect it from. So far, he didn't take her to belong to that category of people.
How glad he is now to be proven wrong.
Happier still he will be if the extension of the gesture were to be welcomed in kind, but he's cautious in his approach, the motion of his hand towards hers deliberate.
❛ My thanks, ❜ the druid speaks, his fingers chasing hers to catch them just past midway between them — perhaps a mere second shy of their return to Serana's side. With that same attentiveness yet upon that gentle capture, he turns her hand to reveal her palm, the pads of her fingertips, and as such the grime she took from his face.
He runs the pad of his forefinger across, as if intent to free her of the muck she lifted from his skin, prim as she's revealed herself to be. The dirt, though, he never once minded ( how could he, as one so attuned to its base element? ) — the blood all the more so. Mere weeks ago, blood-letting of this calibre had never been a necessary part of his responsibilities. His life was a peaceful one, arguably stagnant, even.
He doesn't look at the bodies littered about them to break himself out of his reverie, instead sparing their almost, but not quite joined hands a longer look.
A smile equal parts sardonic ( towards himself ) and warm ( towards her ) splits his features once he looks up again, a second or two later. ❛ Hm. I expect I look a lot more dishevelled than you do. ❜ He's loath to think of what manner of fabric, skin and other gore he might have between his teeth, in his hair and stuck to his skin, still. Wildshaping rarely was a pretty affair to him.
❛ Though, I have been told it's a good look on me. ❜
i wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. (v.)
meme
He only barely refrains from shrugging; from minimising the effort that went into overcoming his rancour in favour of being decent. As good a person as he wants to be, it isn't always effortless—often it is, but sometimes it isn't. Now is an occasion fitting into the latter category.
Vaas is gone, but the bitter, bitter taste he left in V's mouth isn't.
Landry was never to blame for that, though, not really. As much as he'd like to point the finger, to think she'd owed him a heads-up about the ganger's presence, she didn't.
If he learned anything from that fateful encounter that drove a wedge between them amidst their peaceful collaboration, it's that he should keep his damned distance—literally. He stands back a solid five paces, a tension strung up across his body by the time the door swings open. It's not unlike what he pictures a cat's body harnesses, mere nanoseconds before a high jump, away from the danger.
It never comes, however—the blow that would've triggered a similar movement in him. Instead, he's met with a crumbling façade, donning a smile so dim, he questions if it's even really there at all.
❛ I wasn't expectin' you'd hear from me at all, actually, ❜ V returns ( unnecessarily frankly, he supposes ). His posture might've lost some of its strain if he'd have had the heart to perform a thorough sweep of her network – cameras and all – to secure his own safety. The only tangible relaxation comes from a sigh and a break in eye-contact, however.
❛ I was just ... in the neighbourhood. Heard about Vaas, so ... ❜ Here, he gives a one-shouldered shrug. He's not entirely sure what brought him here. It sure as shit wasn't the pity he feels now that he's looking at her tired expression again; the pity that compels him to hang around at that. ❛ Are his goons still around? ❜
[ see ] 'reverse' 🤭
meme
He's seen, touched, smelled and even tasted dozens of things that remind him of her in various capacities — from mild interest in a gown not too unlike what she wore during Hansen's bash ( to his untrained eyes ) decorating a shop window, to an arguably minor betrayal firmly reminding him of the very naivety that landed So Mi in a shuttle to the moon, Reed at the unforgiving end of his pistol, and himself no closer to the end of his nightmare.
But this is none of that. It wasn't a dress, a betrayal, or one of the various places he'd come to avoid once all was said and done. That no longer is the case, anyway; she's made her re-entry into his life, and it took all he had not to welcome her back and forgive all her wrongdoings.
No — far away from the lens he's pointing up at about a forty-five angle, hangs the moon. He's seen it countless times, and even spent many a minute wondering whether she'd reached it at all; if she was safe there; if she found the help she was looking for out there, perhaps nestled in one of the hundreds of craters lining its rough surface.
It may not be the first time something reminded him of her, but it is the first time he feels good about it — and so he snaps a picture of it; of the moon, its crescent positioned between the center and the bottom-left corner of the frame, tilted to make it look like an off-white hammock.
He's quick to attach it to a message — recipient: So Mi. Songbird, he reckons, is a thing ( a name, an alias ) of the past. So, too, his mistrust must be, especially in the face of the ticking clock. He literally has no time to hold grudges towards those who can help, want to help; to those he has a particular soft spot for, at that.
💬 Nowadays I always think of you when I see the moon
💬 Been a thing from the moment I put you on that shuttle, actually
💬 Stuff like "did she get there safely? is she getting what she was after? will she come back?" ..
He sends it before he recognizes the error; the implication that she's on his mind a lot. She is, too — but that's just not the type of information he's ready to part with. He might never be, for fear of all the judgement it might reap. So, as quickly as he can, he tacks on another text; something true, yet disarming, as he watches that lazily suspended moon, still.
💬 Glad I can now just text you to see how you're doinf instead of having to wonder when looking at it :)
mindsmade reblogged
the dark nest trilogy starters.
the following is a collection of sentence starters from the star wars expanded universe’s the dark nest trilogy.
- there is no poison in truth.
- if you don’t wish me to return, i won’t.
- what i don’t wish is for you to leave.
- it’s too soon. you’re not ready.
- sometimes, the effect is all we can know of the cause.
- do you remember my words only so you can use them to spar with me?
- so now you are beyond light and dark? beyond good and evil?
- my bodyguards will wait in the corridor.
- then you know the purpose of my visit?
- an explanation? of what?
- my apologies for taking so much of your time.
- forgive me. i didn’t mean to imply anything.
- you need to put a stop to this, and soon.
- okay, so it’s a small chance. but it’s better than nothing.
- are you crazy? …you are. you’re crazy.
- i do want to win this thing. and to do that, we need to stay alive.
- it’s not too much, if you’ll just leave me alone!
- when are you going to stop calling me ‘kid’?
- trust me.
- this should be interesting.
- i’m looking forward to see how you do it.
- they’re wondering what you’re doing. to tell the truth, so am i.
- you’ve been awfully quiet, (name).
- (name), i think you’re just making the situation here worse.
- you’ve lost your objectivity and you’ve taken sides.
- that was a thoughtless thing for me to say.
- some things i won’t tolerate even from you, (full name).
- at the moment, it’s you i’m most worried about.
- what happened to defending the weak? to sacrificing for the poor?
- i don’t know the truth. and i see no reason to think of one, since you won’t believe it anyway.
- i’ve seen enough. take me back to the hangar.
- doesn’t this all seem a little easy to you?
- i can still do what needs to be done.
- we’re in this together, nerf herder.
- i’m suggesting that we might not have a choice.
- you didn’t ‘rescue’ me.
- are you still here?
- did you just call me a liar, (name)?
- you think, or you’re sure?
- it seems like something’s always broken down just when you need it most.
- better take a sensor reading on our destination — but don’t go active. we don’t want to give away where we’re going.
- you’ve been reading my mind again, haven’t you?
- we should probably turn around now, before anything unfortunate happens. it would be much safer
- go ahead. fly us straight into that planet, and you won’t hear another word from me.
- you don’t have to worry about that. i haven’t been eating it.
mindsmade reblogged
PROMPTS FOR ORDINARY THINGS THAT FEEL INTIMATE * inspired by this post. these don't have to be romantic - you can specify romantic or not when you send them. in essence, these are simply intimate, affectionate moments to share with someone you love and care about. adjust as necessary, send 'reverse' for the reversal of the prompt
- [ lean ] sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder
- [ shop ] sender and receiver go to the grocery store together
- [ brush ] sender brushes receiver's hair
- [ tie ] sender helps receiver with their tie, either by putting it on or adjusting it
- [ necklace ] sender helps receiver with the clasp of their necklace from behind
- [ zip up ] sender assists receiver with zipping up a piece of clothing
- [ unzip ] sender assists receiver with unzipping a piece of clothing
- [ shoelaces ] sender bends down to tie receiver's shoelaces
- [ swipe ] sender notices a smudge of something on receiver's face and gently wipes it off
- [ braid ] sender braids receiver's hair
- [ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders
- [ puddle ] sender hurries to stop receiver from stepping into a puddle
- [ drinks ] sender brings receiver a drink from a bar/their kitchen
- [ feed ] sender feeds receiver's pet/s for them
- [ cook ] sender and receiver cook a meal together
- [ feed ] sender allows receiver to try a bite of their dish, holding their fork out for receiver to taste
- [ teach ] sender, an expert at something, takes time to teach receiver how it works and how they can get better at it, too
- [ readjust ] sender comes up behind receiver and readjusts their stance (maybe holding a gun, holding a golf club, aiming for something, etc.) to help them
- [ makeup ] sender fixes receiver's makeup for them
- [ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls
- [ aloud ] sender reads aloud to receiver
- [ refill ] sender refills receiver's glass without asking
- [ massage ] sender notices receiver looks tense, steps up behind them, and massages their shoulders
- [ listen ] sender listens to receiver explain something they're passionate about
- [ silence ] sender and receiver comfortably exist in silence together, both of them working or reading or focusing on something different
- [ food ] sender brings food over to receiver's house
- [ hum ] sender hums along to a song receiver is singing
- [ see ] sender sees something that reminds them of receiver and texts them a picture of it
- [ admire ] sender stares at receiver across a room, silently admiring and appreciating them from afar
- [ win ] sender lets receiver beat them in a game
- [ puzzle ] sender helps receiver solve/put together a puzzle
- [ carry ] after receiver falls asleep in an inconvenient place, sender carries them to a bed and tucks them in
- [ kneel ] sender finds receiver sick in the bathroom ("tossing their cookies"), and kneels beside them, holding their hair back and cleaning their face
- [ clean ] sender helps bathe receiver
- [ wash ] sender helps receiver wash their hair
- [ patch ] sender carefully patches one of receiver's wounds
mindsmade reblogged
maybe it should be said more often : v is a friend. she cares about him , his wellbeing , and his future. just as she did evelyn , just as she does the joy toys. and maybe the scrawny lesbian doesn't look like much , but she can get real protective. dogtown will always just be a cesspool for the rich and famous or a death trap for the poor and hopeful.
... there will be no in between. maybe it should also be said that he is a mercenary. this is his job. he's also died once. it'll just hurt real fuckin' bad if judy permanently loses him.
" your secret is safe with me , " judy's voice even lowers so that it's just above a whisper , something only he's meant to hear. the bd expert is also quite aware of all exploits to a conversation and there is nobody else around , the cameras are not functional -- they have the floor.
" ... and i don't mean to ruin our moment here with the roller coaster. if it helps with the shared body chip , i'll never be able to stop you , i just want you to be aware that dogtown is shadier and more dangerous than anything else in night city. "
Judy of all people would know how to keep a secret, he supposes—and if there's one thing he needs now, it's to take some pressure off, born of all the secrets that've been imposed on him.
But he let that happen, didn't he? He's a gonk that way, grabbing whatever opportunity's presented to him with both hands the moment it manages to make him feel anything besides that perpetual dread, grief and guilt of his.
❛ I know. I get it, trust me. It didn't take long for the rest of NC to start feelin' like a theme park in comparison, ❜ V mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly. ❛ But, yeah, I was ... roped into a rescue op by an FIA agent who promised she could help me with the construct. She knew, Judy—without even meetin' me in person, she knew. And since it's not exactly public knowledge I've got this thing lodged in my head, that demonstrates the measure of skill necessary to back up a promise like that, I reckon ... Anyway, guess who I had to rescue! ❜
very quietly ( finally ) added ethan chandler back to the roster; his carrd is very bare bones but it's all i had time for jisfdjs. i am going to restart my rewatch of penny dreadful bc i fell off that wagon in the middle of my move so i can properly fill in the blanks again 🩶
luca, my darling friend, i know i said it in voice note already, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BIRTHDAY TWIN! I love you very much and I'm so happy that we found each other. I hope you have an incredible day, and a wonderful year!!!!
if you don't, i have your back either way 💛
still not over the fact that we're like best pals and share a birthday like ... in what universe does that happen? you're a light in my life and i adore you for it my friend – may you have a beautiful birthday as well, and i hope it yields you a wonderful year till the next one!! and if it doesn't, likewise – i've got u ❤️
mindsmade reblogged
she's a picture of rapt attention. even when he passes the book back , it's only her body's instinct that allows her to reach for it and gently place it off to the side. the information he gifts her she virtually licks from his fingers , wanting every morsel. " dust and magma ?? " is her only response initially. whole other worlds , other planes just like coldharbour. ( and you saw nothing of it , save for the beaches that led to your gods domain , a haunting fortress of soul-tied brick and mortar. ) crimson eyes look upon him in near-reverence. such a cloistered girl - her court filled with mer and mortal alike , but none such as aerendyl. and so the dam shattered.
" you're of earth , yes ?? what does it look like ?? are they connected together like doors you could pass through ?? or more like roads and paths you have to travel ?? how is it that you're able to travel ?? do you just think it and it happens or is there a process , maybe alchemical ?? " there's a shift in his expression that makes her stop. makes her realize she is in fact rambling and could be , in fact , as many have told her , becoming overbearing.
the tips of marble fingers lift to her mouth , as if she had to physically keep the words from continuing to waterfall out of her. an overflowing well of desperate attempts to form some sort of connection. " i'm sorry. oh that was too much. . . "
Some might not appreciate the barrage of questions, but Aerendyl can't be counted amongst that demographic. His face lights up by an increment with each question asked, until he at length erupts into laughter—far too boisterous for this setting, yet all the more demonstrative of his appreciation as such. His eyes shut for a moment, a palm resting on his stomach as he drinks in the moment. When he comes to, he hesitates not and reaches for Serana's hands, intent on gently coaxing her fingers from her mouth.
❛ Not at all. That was delightful. ❜ His touch persists for a moment, feeling some of his warmth sap from him, and letting it happen. ❛ Yes, I'm from the Earth Plane, ❜ he nods then, slowly relinquishing his gentle hold. ❛ The area I spent most of my time in was called Sandfall—and that name already describes what it looks like. There's this perpetual column of fine mithril falling down, down, down, and Lady Sunnis' fortress built around it. Beyond the city ... lots of caves and subterranean networks; high, jagged cliffs lined with ore lodes and crystalline mountain tops; deserts made of metallic dust ... ❜
He catches himself mid-gesture, his hand extending out before him, slowly sweeping as if covering the broad stroke of the landscape on an invisible canvas. ❛ To get to any of the Elemental Planes, you can take a few paths as far as I'm aware—elemental vortexes, spells ... travelling between any of them, once you're there, is a lot easier; just like crossing a border on this plane, in a sense. ❜ His hands fall back into his lap, fingers interlinking. Now he's rambling, but he only thinks it fitting, given Serana's curiosity. ❛ I came here through a vortex. I travelled with a caravan, which took me to the Spine of the World, a ways north of here. The ones leading to and from the Earth Plane are prone to move, though, which makes going home ... tricky. ❜
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Tav paused to ponder over Aerendyl's question, frowning in concern. He did feel a strong connection with Helm, even though he couldn't explain why. Helm was the God of guardians and protectors, and He could help Tav to focus on his task, which was to protect the innocent. The paladin aura of protection was also a good reason why Tav believed Helm was watching over him. Every time he found himself in a bad situation, especially regarding control, he felt that aura engulfing him, even if it was subtle.
"I... just started worshipping him." He confessed, giving the man a confused expression. Yes, he just started worshipping Helm, so why did he feel like it had been a long time of devotion and worship? "It doesn't feel like it's recent, though. Maybe I used to worship him in the past, but I can't say for certain."
That damn amnesia of his -- sometimes he felt lucky that he forgot the atrocities he did, but at the same time, he felt lost and aching for a history, a past. "I recently recalled my surname too. Lionheart. It doesn't mean anything to me, or any of the others... unfortunately. And I don't recall any Baldurian family with that name, at least any paladin ones." He was from Baldur's Gate, that he could confirm, even if he didn't remember.
"Maybe... maybe my family isn't from Baldur's Gate, then?" His expression saddened a little. Faerûn was huge, it would be hard to find out more about his past by only using his surname. Releasing a deep sigh, Tav pursed his lips in disappointment. "The more I try to know myself, the more I feel like I'm sinking into a deep hole."
Lionheart — how fitting, Aerendyl thinks, for lion-hearted he is indeed, in more than just one sense of the word. Tav faces not only foes on the battlefield with the bravery a surname such as that would innately imply, but he faces himself. There, as well as off the battlefield, when facing himself, or even just his reflection while cleaning the blood off his face downriver, he must be brave. As far as Aerendyl can tell, he has been.
He might not have been sitting here tonight if that hadn't been the case. ❛ Hm. Do you think slowing down on getting to know yourself is an option at all? Just to a degree that'll let you ... not feel that way; to help you regain some balance. ❜
A brief pause later, his expression shifts — another ( hopefully better ) idea just struck him. ❛ Or keep it simple. Like ... what food do you enjoy these days? What's your favourite colour? ❜