Greatness or Death ;

idk what this is its been 84 years @starsoared 

   Mind moves at miles per minute, too much chatter too much noise too much sound. He cannot focus, he cannot see, he cannot hear. The rattle in his rib cage, the shiver in his skin, he has to be breathing. The heartbeat hammering in his ears, he has to be living. There’s pain in him somewhere, somewhere he cannot place. Something is bitter on his tongue, but it shifts and becomes metallic instead. Vision blurs in and out of focus, he can barely see Astrid.

   She speaks, and it is mumbled and buried in the rest of the world. Every sound, every second ticking by, he knows she is there. Something in him hurts, he feels like he is being turned inside out. He feels like he is being turned inside out. His insides are coming out.

   He screams. He screams something horrible and feral, fingers pressing into his abdomen in sheer torment and desperation. His stomach was melting, it was writhing up his throat. It would spill from his lips in a mix of green and black and red, putrid and disgusting. He felt like he was going to die.

   “Leave him!” He can hear his mentor command, and it was to warn Astrid of her actions. Right, we are training. She was always good with poison. He can imagine Eadwulf laughing later, reminding Bren that she had a knack for the worst. She would be the best of the trio.

   Bren would see it as a challenge.

lia is teSTING ME @roadthrived​

blood blood blood | accepting @gloriouslygood​

    Caleb can feel himself leave his body. How his soul ascends, his consciousness rise from his skin and away from what was happening. The Volstrucker had found him, just one, and he thought he could run. He thought he could hide. Minutes spent casting spells, trying anything in desperation to run from them, all in vain. He wasn’t prepared for confrontation, nor did he think he would ever need to. Was he not promised safety, was he not guaranteed freedom? Trent was supposed to leave him alone now, he was supposed to be free of his gaze. Free of his influence. He had fled the continent, had fled far into Tal’dorei. Was this not far enough?

   Would he ever be free? 

   He looks down to his broken knuckles, bloody and bruised, knowing he would have difficulty casting until those were healed.

i’m an angst guy (duh) | accepting @enastrcs

   “Ja, of course,” Caleb takes a breath, ragged and short and stressed. There was too much uncertainty, and he was someone that dealt in absolutes. Caleb Widogast was a planner, he had a solution for everything. A back up plan for everything. He never dared to enter a room without first finding an exit.

   Except, this time, there were no exits to be found.

   Through the silence and sorrow, he knows. Through the trembling of her shoulders, he knows. Through the creak of the wood, he knows.

   Oh, child of the stars, he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

   Caleb turns to her, his stomach to her back, an arm wrapping around her middle. He pulls her as close to himself as he can, tears now in his own eyes, and it is sorrow he feels. How he loathes the pain she feels, the betrayal deep in her gut. He would rip it from her if he could, a kindness he could only long to give.

doOT

in this house we hoard nta asks | i dont want anymore @tempestvoice[ good ]   your muse calling mine a good boy / girl.

   Keyleth’s hands trace his sternum, fingertips rolling over his skin in movements he can’t help being entranced by. Was it wrong to take time and pause? To let his mind cease, however brief, and feel pleasure? Was it wrong to want to give himself to her? Was it wrong?

@gloriouslygood

   Caleb can’t help but smile at that, nothing wide and toothy, but a grin nonetheless. But there is no joy in the expression, not in the slightest. It is disbelief and doubt that forces the corners upward, and there’s a short snicker accompanying it.

@gloriouslygood​

   This body was not his own. A mind freed was a mind disastrous, and he was full of such things. Hands had strangled the guard, and he ran as fast as his feet could carry him. He had hidden somewhere in the market, sliding into an alleyway before taking cover behind crates that obscured him as best they could. 

   Bren trembles, looking to his hands then his arms. Scars once bright red, stitches still present, are now faint and smooth. How long had it been, he wondered? How long was he inside of that asylum, how long had he been nothing? 

   A man with a softer expression soon stands before him, dark hair greying, and Bren can sense he means well. A firm hand on his shoulder leads him away from the market and to a house a few blocks south, away from the Candles.

   He doesn’t remember the walk to where he is now, but there is a cup of tea in his hands and heavy fabric over his shoulders. The robes cover his arms, cover his scars, and he likes it better that way.

tunglr broke and now its gone | dont send me SHIT @circusglass

   “Ja, what of it, Mollymauk?” He pours some of Nott’s whiskey over the lacerations, then attempts to mask his discomfort. Caleb doesn’t want to show his weakness, though it now lay in shards beside him. Jester could simply heal him, close the wounds without much thought, but she would question him. The party would question him.

   It was bad enough Molly knew about it.

   Caleb rests with his back to the wall of the washroom, thinking little of the act as he absentmindedly wraps his hands as he has many times before. Blood seeps through the white fabric, and he frowns at the sight. Though the mirror is scattered now, he can still see the reflection of a child no more than sixteen, blue and silver robes on his body.