The Farland's Outcasts

              𝓘𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓮 , but bathing is rarely indulged in by the faerie past practicality . A few minutes at varied times through the day , scattered between work and other , more preferred , uses of her time , make for what is and has been typical for some decades . And here in the wilds , she feels no incentive to do otherwise .              That mind for efficiency fits his decision to join her (   so to speak , as there is not much of a boundary to draw or cross over the entire river running beside their temporary camp  ) , and consequently that alone draws no reaction . It is when she notices that Murdo has settled against a natural protrusion of rocks , simply lounging in the lighter currents of shallower water , that her incredulity is sparked .              Toothiana’s approach is , as often the case , defiant against all logic in its subtlety . Contrast , her regard for the fact that he might appreciate a little more privacy than what is afforded by her suddenly appearing on top of the rocks he’s resting against is , perhaps , a consideration set aside only temporarily .

He seemed to have no qualms, with being so bare around his lady liege. Most of him was on display. Among them, lugged scars. Some bites, other claws, many wrought with steel. Yet that didn’t matter to him. Normally, he was self conscious about these matters. But the years spent between he and the Fae had eliminated any shyness to be found in him.

As she spoke, he looked up, no eye patch upon his features to hide his swollen closed right eye. It took him a moment, but Murdo did eventually respond. With a houndish grin, no less.

“Bathing, milady.” He responded, hunching over to cup at the running waters. Bringing his head down, Murdo poured the waters over his scalp. Black locks of hair thinning, growing darker. He did shiver, but it was soon followed with a laugh.

M Y   N A M E   I S   M A D N E S S

T H E   D E M O N   S L A Y E R   I N   Y O U R   H E A D

I ‘ M   A L W A Y S   T H E R E

U N T I L   T H E   E N D

Some more practice and the like. Tried to do a bit of perspective stuff in regards to the head and some monochrome stuff. Also blut.

Sloooowly gettin’ there. Slowly gettin’ better.

Decided to do a background to go with it.

Gettin’ better!

Drew Murdo ready to throw tf down. Look at that smug asshole.

rp-meme-central:

                𝓗𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓮𝓰𝓼 𝓬𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓲𝓭𝓵𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰  abruptly , and Toothiana stiffens in her seat . Eyes narrowed , gaze lowered , her entire body bends forward from her place a top the balcony railing , and at this her words are weighted with a garnered stark emphasis .                 ❛   I am serious , Shenraga .  You will make enemies far worse than a near-mindless bear if you do not pay respect to the lands you tread upon in your efforts , no matter how arbitrary the methods may seem .   ❜

“It’s a razor’s edge, aint it?” He asked her, idly chewing the wooden mouth piece in his mouth. “Didn’t some fancy scholar say ‘ Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster himself ‘. or something ‘long those lines?”

It was something like that. His knowledge of pen pushers and book worms where limited, which was to be expected.

He didn’t really say anything more. At first, anyway. It seemed he was actually paying heed to what Toothiana said, and actually give some semblance of thought to what she said. In hunting monsters, he was leaving a path of charred wood and slain wood life in its wake. Hell, he was perhaps doing more damage to the land, in place of that damned bear.

Murdo exhaled, smoke escaping his mouth as he shook his head.

When she finally pried her eyes open, for they’d been clamped shut in an attempt to stifle her tears, she looked right up into his remaining eye. Her vision went blurry in seconds, however, and the wails that she tried to shove back flowed free. “Y-you bastard…” She said, choking on her own words. Between her sniffled, her own hand reached up to clasp his, her fingertips oddly chilled despite the heat present in the room. “We… we just said this isn’t… this isn’t your fault.”

Her grip tightened, her voice raising in volume just slightly as she said “I thought I was over this but I’m not and nothing pisses me off more right now! I’m such a fucking idiot! Just a sappy, sobbing idiot who couldn’t get over one man! How fucking dare I?! H-how…”

She closed the last gap to bury her darkening face into his chest, work apron or not. Honestly, the soot of the entire room could’ve rubbed into her armor and on all of her clothes right now, and she’d barely notice.

Muffled, she echoed her cry of “I’m such an idiot…”

He couldn’t afford to show his sorrow. Not now, when she was doing just that. One of them had to be strong for the other. One of them had to pull the other back onto their feet, dust them off, and tell them that everything was going to be okay. Even though he found it painful, being called only ‘one man’. A bastard. He knew that she didn’t mean any foul of it. She was busy beating herself up, after all/

Upon having her head buried into his work apron, Murdo found his arms wrapping around her, holding her close to his ruined body. His head was bowed respectfully, eye closed, as he allowed her to get it all out of her system.

Even now, MUrdo couldn’t find any words to say to her. What could he say? Actions spoke louder than words, and he found that he could only hug her close to him, with no intent of letting go any time soon.

Yet he did find himself able to say a few select words, in a soft mumble. And those words, he simply whispered into her ear. Over and over again.