do you hear it?

𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓, 𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ⸻ [ #MeetSorcery ] a private, mutuals-only multimuse rp blog. featuring GALE DEKARIOS of larian's baldur's gate 3

grief is tricky. You aren't alone anymore. All of it obvious wisdom and common sense, and yet part of him had clearly forgotten. In the span of five years, he's fallen from the heights of luxury and nobility to the depths of poverty, pain and loneliness, and they are difficult beasts to keep at bay by one's own hand. Sacrifices are made, most of them of the human kind, as though the soul were the only thing valuable enough to appease the demands of fate. But Vox Machina have proven loyal. They've proven to be better people than many others Percival has met before, even if and when plagued by their own demons.

“ There are ... so many things. That I want to say. That I'm holding onto. And so much more that I wouldn't wish upon anyone. ” Percy slumps back into his seat, uncaring of how the chair digs into his back. “ Who knows. Maybe I'll be able to let them out one day. ” He turns his head towards Keyleth. “ And hopefully it won't get on anyone's shoes. ”

still, bright gaze follows percy's shifting posture and she shifts beside him, cupping her chin in her hand. a little hum reverberates through her throat as her expression sombers. keyleth thinks of her mother, of her silhouette against the distance and the great, wide world beyond. that all too familiar grief plucks at her heart like talons, over wounds that have never fully healed and are well worn enough to be grooves within tender muscle, but at least in that memory her mother is whole. her mother is well, living and breathing and certain. percy had not been afforded such a right. how horrible, keyleth thinks and the grief in her heart is hardened into anger, to have a final memory be laced with horror.

It cannot be stressed enough: if someone has blocked you, DO NOT follow them from a different blog. Nor follow a different blog of theirs that they may not have yet blocked you from.

When someone blocks you, that is a definite and clear sign that they want you to leave them alone. Doing anything but that - including sending them anonymous asks - is harassment.

Like it or not, no one owes you anything. You are not entitled to an explanation as to why they don’t want to interact with you. You are not entitled to any form of engagement or acknowledgement at all. 

Do not harass people by trying to force them to engage with you to even give you a direct ‘no’. Many people struggle when it comes to confrontations, and given how often major confrontations and even callouts result from people attempting to be polite when turning down requests for interaction, it should not be a surprise that there are people who would rather avoid the situation by simply blocking to put a cease on all attempts at interaction.

[ TO SPREAD DARKNESS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD IS THY TRUE CALLING. WHAT SAY THEE, ADAGIUM? ] nothing matters — none of it. not the "blessed gods" above or the accursed kings below. TO HELL WITH THEM ALL! ⸻ M.E. 734.

" keyleth, " her name falls from his lips, silently, urgently mixing in with the ringing sounds of her voice. it was a simple, selfish part of him that wished to continue on as they were, no complications, no doubt. but rather than looking at the druid, vax instead lowers his gaze to the snowdrops at their feet, and he cannot help but look unto them with a sad smile.

there is an extended period of silence, one that vax chooses to sit with for a bit longer before he answers; that same selfish part of him urges him to turn and walk away, but his feet betray him, planted firmly within the earth, " listen, i — it's fine. " he shakes his head. no, it is enough to know her. it will have to be. " keyleth, you know i will always support you, in everything. " the last word cuts through him, forcing a breathy laugh as if the sound of his voice cracking could possibly reach her ears.

how desperately she wants them to stay like this. how fiercely she wishes his hand to remain in her own, here beneath the warm sun and far from the rot and the darkness and the horror. her gaze drops to their hands. if this is what she wants, why does it feel like a mistake? why does shared understanding feel so much like a new distance? ❝ and i-, i need-, ❞ i need you. that is what sits at the top of her tongue now, growing until the word for it had finally blossomed in whitestone. for the briefest moment, her expression is nearly a grimace before she forces her mouth to form a faint smile, ❝ and i need to do this, vax. ❞