𝕞𝕚𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕦𝕩

Send one or more emojis ( + descriptions ) for the kind of ship/dynamic you’d like to write with my muse! ( for multimuses, please specify. )

ROMANTIC

❤️ committed, romantic relationship 💘 friends to lovers 💔 used to be together but broke up ❣️ skinny love 💗 slow burn 💌 one muse has a crush on the other muse 💕 mutual pining 💝 romantic relationship of convenience 🏫 highschool sweethearts 💒 arranged relationship ( dating, engagement, political, etc. ) 💋 one-sided romantic relationship ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 🖤 lovers to enemies 🤍 enemies to lovers

SEXUAL

💖 a sexual relationship that could turn romantic 🧡 friends with benefits 👄 a sexual, non-romantic relationship 🏩 sexual relationship of convenience 🔥 unresolved sexual tension 💟 developing sexual relationship ( may include romance ) 💞 one muse approaches the other out of convenience ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 🔪 enemies with sexual tension

FAMILIAL

👪 biological family 👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 adopted family 🧑‍🤝‍🧑 family by choice/found family 👩‍👧 older/younger siblings 👭 twins 👥 cousins or extended family 👣 estranged family/feuding family 👨‍🏫 one muse is a teacher/mentor for the other muse ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 🚸 coworkers like family 🟡 family out of circumstance ⚪ pretending to be family

PLATONIC

💜 friendship 💙 queerplatonic partners ( an intimate, non-romantic committed relationship ) 💚 friends like siblings 💛 childhood friends 💧 friends due to traumatic experiences 🤝 coworkers ⛔ reluctant friends ✅ enemies to friends 🌈 developing friendship ☀️ friends of circumstance 👔 strangers working together ☕ one muse works in service of the other ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 🕴 partners in illegal activities 👯partners in crime trope ⚡ sparring partners 🩹 friends forced to work against each other 🟥 one muse makes a deal or contract with the other ( magic or non-magic. ) ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver )

ENEMIES

🦴 mortal enemies 💀 enemies ⚔️ rivalry 🗡️ one-sided rivalry/grudge ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 🧠 enemies as narrative foils 💬 enemies because of conflicting ideologies 🤫 one muse is secretly an enemy/traitor to the other muse ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) 😨 one muse is using the other muse for their benefit ( specify which muse, Sender or Receiver ) ❌ guilty by association 🚫 friends to enemies 🪓 occupational enemies 🩸 enemies tolerating each other for a common goal ⚫ enemies using each other out of convenience ⬜ coworkers who hate each other

At  first,  he  thought  the  comment  about  his  rarity  was  his  captor's  gloating  and  his  gaze  filled  with  rising  anger.  But  squinting  through  the  light,  he  noticed  it  belonging  to  a  fellow  cell-mate.  It  wasn't  relief,  but  it  took  some  of  the  burning  sensation  right  out  of  him.  "．　．　．　ＹＯＵ＇ＲＥ　ＮＯＴ　Ａ　ＣＯＭＭＯＮ　ＳＩＧＨＴ　ＹＯＵＲＳＥＬＦ，　ＦＡＥ－ＫＩＮ．"  For  all  their  countless  differences,  he  recalled  their  kind  to  be  solitary  and  territorial  in  nature  much  like  his  own.  But  this  one  was  rare  even  compared  to  the  others  he'd  seen-  or  maybe  it's  just  been  that  long  since  he  last  saw  one  of  the  forest  witches?  Did  they  still  call  themselves  that?  Not  that  it  mattered  in  this  moment,  in  which  they  were  both  considered  trophies  by  some  sick  human  mind.  He  had  to  focus.

To  her  offer,  Darkrai  shook  his  head.  His  body  rested  against  the  cold  wall  of  this  cell  as  if  forsaken  by  gravity.  Not  a  great  sight  for  a  mighty  creature  of  myths,  but  he  had  few  visible  wounds.  "ＳＡＶＥ　ＹＯＵＲ　ＰＯＷＥＲＳ．　ＯＴＨＥＲＳ　ＷＩＬＬ　ＨＡＶＥ　ＮＥＥＤ　ＯＦ　ＴＨＥＭ　ＯＮＣＥ　ＷＥ　ＢＲＥＡＫ　ＯＵＴ．　ＤＯ　ＭＥ　ＡＮＯＴＨＥＲ　ＦＡＶＯＲ　ＩＮＳＴＥＡＤ："  As  he  said  that,  one  of  the  humans  in  their  white  uniforms  marched  down  the  aisle  of  their  containment-cells.  Something  was  off  at  sight,  their  stride  more  of  a  totter.  "ＴＡＫＥ　ＴＨＩＳ　ＦＯＯＬ＇Ｓ　ＫＥＹＣＡＲＤ．"  The  grunt  was  sleepwalking.  For  all  the  moves  they  could  suppress,  they  couldn't  take  away  Darkrai's  ability  to  cause  and  manipulate  nightmares.  Now  that  the  jailer  wandered  close  enough  to  the  bars,  the  keycard  hanging  by  one  of  their  pockets  should  be  in  reach  of  the  fairy-type  for  her  to  grab  it.

❝ Woooah, look at you clever-clogs! I just knew you wouldn't be outclassed that easily. ❞ Praise which chimes at the edges—the notion of a smile in melody.

A fool, indeed: the ill-prepared employee quickly relieved of his access key and let to shamble away under Darkrai's influence, whilst the witchling skims her gaze about their cell. Each of their binding contraptions has its own release panel on the outer wall, theoretically out-of-reach, but Hattania wasn't so helpless that she couldn't manage enough kinesis to close the final gap.

His shackles are the first to come undone: power visibly ebbing as bands of yellow light go dark before the manacles dramatically split at their seam and fall to the floor with a metallic clang—hers following soonafter.

The sudden surge of empathy as dulled senses return in full-force is enough to make her wince, but she manages to mollify them before any unfortunate outburst can occur. Six wings stretch and titter for a moment, then wrap around her slender form, her kind's signature illusion of a gown restored; no visible scuffs or scrapes to speak of, but the last dregs of toxic poisoning linger still in slightly laden motions. Not so bad, all things considered.

Enchanting like the laughter of petals, dancing in the wind.Infatuation may be a lowly trick of pixies, but it never lasted this long; or when he was out of range, nothing but a recall of days before to lull him into pleasant thoughts. Of course, by now he'd learned that Miss Moto was not someone who played a long game- Why not lace her kisses with poison, if that were true?

How incredibly thoughtless of a thought. How he would want to hide in the tiniest crevice of a rock if she ever heard a second of his anxious doubts.

" Yes, of course."

On his heel he makes his way back down the stairs, freshly adorned with his lover's affection.Nothing on his mind- until he stumbles on the last step, grasping the reins of his steed's bridle to avoid the taste of mud. Belatina shakes her head lightly, scolding the rough treatment, and yet, her nose knocks him back, just enough to have him back on his feet once more. It seems she wasn't in the spirit of ruining his day, this time.

Three O'clock came; though it was by chance he'd returned on time. The errands had been simple, and laden him with a bit of a burden. Over his shoulder, a satchel of food and supplies, dried fruits,sweetmeats, bread and jams, and Belatina with a new bedroll, and additional saddlebag.

"If you're ready-!"

She trots out to meet him without a moment's delay, a small satchel of her own bouncing against one hip with each hurried step down the stairs—beaming all the while.

❝ All set! ❞ the kitchen put to sleep for the evening, embers tamped out and every tool, every ingredient, stashed in its proper place; doors locked and wards placed. Her little shoppe, and her home within, was all set to be without its mistress for a time.

A good, long time, she hoped; the generous supplies he'd put together for the occasion giving her hope that it would be just-so.

❝Waah, you put so much together! I can't wait to enjoy it together...at the jousting tournament?❞ Her affectionate tone meanders into curiosity at the end, though it doesn't lose any brightness. ❝You know, I can't say I've ever been to a proper contest of the sort—but that sounds so exciting! I don't mind waiting a little longer, at all, if that's the case. ❞ Even if she had theoretically worked through lunch in her furor, she wouldn't wither away.