A MILLION POSSIBILITIES.

❛  we'll just have to make do.  ❜ ❛  come on, it'll be fun.  ❜ ❛  wait, where are we going?  ❜ ❛  you can't be here. go now!  ❜ ❛  it's just a dream, a stupid dream.  ❜ ❛  don't be afraid. i'm a friend.  ❜ ❛  i can't stand up. what should i do?  ❜ ❛  now listen, i'l tell you what to do. if you stay here, they'll find you. i'll distract them while you get away.  ❜ ❛  you have no choice if you want to survive here ... and save your parents, too.  ❜ ❛  why do i need a weakling like you?  ❜ ❛  trembling, aren't you? still, i'm impressed you made it this far.  ❜ ❛  what a pain. you're gonna pay for this.  ❜ ❛  keep your wits about you. if you need anything, ask me.  ❜ ❛  hey, are you okay? don't fall apart on me.  ❜ ❛  listen to me. i'll promise i'll save you.  ❜ ❛  what did you expect after all that rain?  ❜ ❛  i'm gonna get there someday. i'll get out of here for sure.  ❜ ❛  i was just coming to wake you up, look!  ❜ ❛  what should i do? he'll die!  ❜ ❛  what's so funny? wipe off that smile.  ❜ ❛  don't do anything stupid until i get down there.  ❜ ❛  you see, someone i really care about is badly hurt. i've got to go right now.  ❜ ❛  this is our little secret. if you tell anyone ... i'll do the same to you.  ❜ ❛  what are you going to do? he needs help.  ❜ ❛  becoming a sorcerer's apprentice is dangerous business.  ❜ ❛  well, getting there is one thing. getting back's the problem.  ❜ ❛  [name], i promise i'll be back. please don't die.  ❜ ❛  don't you understand? it's love.  ❜ ❛  what took you so long? this is a total disaster!  ❜ ❛  what do you want? you can tell me.  ❜ ❛  what, you're still alive?  ❜ ❛  you still don't see it? she's played a trick on you.  ❜ ❛  since when do you talk that way?  ❜ ❛  you held this, and nothing happened to you?  ❜ ❛  i'd like to help you, but there's nothing i can do. it's one of our rules here.  ❜ ❛  but can't you even give me a hint?  ❜ ❛  everything that happens stays inside you ... even if you can't remember it.  ❜ ❛  see? you have a talent for this.  ❜ ❛  [name], i no longer blame you for what you did. but be sure to protect this girl.  ❜ ❛  will we meet again somewhere?  ❜

Finding this figure contently set in her 'garden', treating air and scarlet flora alike as a place to relax should've been enough of a foreboding sign. In fact, the instant they've locked eyes, worlds found themselves displayed before their fingertips. Countless, uncontained possibilities of how this could unravel. Violent ones.

This led the Trailblazer to tilt his head up, an alien familiarity carried with the taste of simmering tension.

He'd watch as that ivory hair danced in tune with her slow trotting ponderance. It'd be nothing but the hollowed grounds of rock walls and the now inert remnants of a bypassed civilization to frame this moment. For one moment she's far while that (threateningly) charming smile is set, the next? Here they find themselves close, the sheer lack of tact for distance briefly prompting those eyes to widen.

"Never knew either or could leverage that much thought." It'd be a faint cut to her performance, showing that he has no intention of being left out. Now if only he wasn't left speechless at the bizarre note of his question flipped back to him.

"Shameless, aren't you?" Caelus immediately accuses, directly at contradictory offer. That wellspring of strength found itself stirred, as if casting a quiet eye from the depth of his Stellaron heart at this 'conundrum.' "A boring day with friends, or liven it up with foes. After I just stepped toe in your cozy lil domain no less?" Silver almost brushes up with ivory due to the proximity, the heat from that gilded gaze gaining a particular sharpness, vigor driven and ready as his answer is clear.

Oh he had to be. For being at this 'intimate' proximity with Camellya was akin to stepping close to fang and thorns, each of them nudging but never quite piercing. Those very pricks themselves would normally drive fear in the heart's of most.

For Caelus?

Preparedness.

"Caelus." He introduces, all while a radiant aura of Path power begins to swim around his figure, adding a palpable weight to surroundings and decision alike. Such a look was no stranger to mercilessness.

"Let's make things a helluva lot more fun."

And his introductory move found itself shimmering to life right between them. An obsidian baseball bat found itself conjured into his grasp, clasped firm and swimming with the vibrancy of Destruction as he leans his torso back. Ample room was made for the incoming upwards swing, teeming with that violent light as it devoured the very air it carved pace in pursuit of finding leverage upon Camellya. It was a strike that aimed to make contact with the chin of that smiling bloom.

“Shameless? Oh, how your words wound me so. Think about it… What better way to greet a new friend, if not through a dance?”

She doesn’t move until the very last moment, her excitement near-palpable as she watches him summon forth his baseball bat—an odd choice of weapon, she must say, but even that is amusing—and lean back in preparation of his unrestrained swing. Camellya, in turn, bends backwards to avoid his weapon, its tip merely a breath’s width away as she executes a languid, almost slow-motion flip: effortless and unhurried, like a dancer’s fluid pirouette, graceful and calculated.

Her body arches perfectly as she falls backwards. Then, with a single hand, she plants her palm firmly against the ground, so perfectly controlled that it’s as if she were defying gravity itself as her legs seamlessly follow through the curve of her body, finishing with the softest tap of her feet against the ground. Camellya’s smile is still there by the time she straightens her back, as though she hadn’t just nearly kissed the man’s bat had she moved a second slower.

That readiness to fight. That strength in his swing… He shows such delectable promise that she can’t help but run her tongue along her lips, forefinger tapping on her chin as if deep in thought.

“Caelus,” she repeats, savouring each letter, each syllable, as if tasting the name for the first time.

Will it become a name worth remembering? She wonders. Or is he fated to be like the many other wanderers she’s faced before, gone and long forgotten?

“Perhaps I’ll tell you my name once you’ve managed to hit me, hm?” She muses aloud, her voice laced with a twisted delight, the thrill of danger sharp in her tone as she taunts him. “Unless, of course, that was already the best you could offer?” And as she speaks, crimson vines bloom from the soil beneath them, a few lazily coiling up along the man’s leg.

With him as her opponent, she may have to apologise to both the Rover and Shorekeeper after all, the thought of letting herself loose—of letting herself tip over her own limitations already tempting her.

     The  enigma  that  wanders  in  the  shadows,  treads  where  no  one  else  dares  to   &&   garners  only  the  most  negative  of  attention   —   Sampo  Koski  is  the  one  man  that  is  around  when  you  expect  him  least  but  never  quite  there  when  you  need  him  most.  Tonight  is  no  different,  most  of  the  Underworld  has  already  laid  their  heads  to  rest.  The  most  business  at  this  hour  he  could  hope  for  at  the  Fight  Club,  but  rather  than  waltz  into  there,  on  his  way  back  from  a  shady  detail  the  clinic's  Doctor  needn't  the  details  of  he  noticed  the  illumination  of  light  within  the  structure  coming  through  the  windows.  Well  beyond  closing  hour,  he  was  nosy   &&   wanted  to  see  if  something  had  gone  awry.  For  if  he  were  to  swoop  in   &&   offer  assistance  it  would  just  be  another  favor  to  hang  over  Wildfire's  leader.

     To  him,  draping  a  blanket  over  her  form  hardly  warranted  a  need  to  cash  in  for  something  later.  The  mercenary  only  wanted  to  catch  her  attention  after  seeing  her  alone  in  here,  far  too  engrossed  in  something  that  could  wait  till  tomorrow.  Lest  the  cycle  repeats  day  in   &&   day  out.

     Yet,  who  is  he  to  deny  company  ?   Freezing  in  place  as  to  not  disturb  her  turn  on  the  stage.  Somehow,  she's  still  running  on  some  sort  of  steam   —   the  Overworld  ought  to  be  jealous  of  what  energy  she  apparently  harbored  within  her,  doing  far  more  work  than  a  Geomarrow  heater  could  ever  dream  of. 

     Graciously  accepting  the  invitation,  he  bows  before  taking  his  seat.  The  green  of  his  eyes  have  a  particular  gleam  of  mischief,  usually  always  found  in  any  sort  of  light  one  viewed  the  serpent  in.  Belobog   &&   his  mind  crafting  the  most  perfect  playground  for  his  own  Elation.  Not  that  she  would  understand  that  aspect  of  it,  but  regardless,  he  really  did  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  labor,  the  way  in  which  he  conducted  business.  Honestly,  he'd  even  convinced  himself  it  was  enough  to  fill  the  hole  in  his  heart.       Or  so  he  believed.       Tentative.  His  hand  reaches  out  to  fidget  with  the  handle  of  the  mug.  Lithe  fingers  brushing  over  the  curve  before  he  sets  it  closer  to  him.  Sampo's  smile  never  wavers,  the  feline  curls  begging  to  stay  glued  to  his  handsome  visage  while  he  struggled  between  telling  her  that  he  does  find  himself  seeking  interactions  such  as  these   &&   maintaining  the  professional  boundary  set  between  them.  The  one  he  had  between  everyone,  even  if  they  hated  his  guts. 

           ❝  Sadly,  Sampo  Koski  does  not  come  bearing  gifts,  but  Miss  Natasha…  It's  pretty  late  out.  I  was  only  concerned,  wondering  if  there  had  been  an  operation  gone  wrong  !   ❞    His  hand  comes  up  to  his  chest,  pressing  like  he  might  have  a  heartache. Disgruntled by his find.    ❝  I  was  pretty  relieved  to  see  only  you  here,  but…  Like  I  said.  It's  late.  ❞

Right. She’s long accepted that she’ll never fully unravel the layers hidden beneath his jests and laughter. No matter how hard she tries, it’s always a challenge trying to discern whether his words and actions are yet another carefully crafted performance of his or not—whether she has yet again been made into a mere audience of his. Truth be told, the uncertainty of it all had irritated her at first, but now—

“Don’t use that; you’ll have trouble removing the stains on it after.” She gives the back of Sampo’s hand a light tap, gently shooing it away so she can clean what is left of the mess with paper napkins.

—Now, Natasha finds she doesn’t mind playing along with his performance. Because the truth is this: Sampo has always proven himself an invaluable asset—not just to her clinic but to the Underworld as a whole, especially during its darkest days of isolation. The truth is, she owes him more than she could ever possibly repay in a lifetime, and she can only be ever so grateful that he has not asked for anything in return—at least, not anything she couldn’t offer.

And for all his theatrics, his secrets, his childish deceptions and tricks, Natasha clings to one simple hope that, at the very least, she has not misplaced her trust in him. When she thinks of Sampo, she believes, with a certainty that cuts through the uncertainty of everything else, that he would never bring harm to the people of the Underworld, and that alone, she tells herself, is enough.

“You just watched me make the drink,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief as she puts away the napkins and settles back into her seat. She’s thankful, at least, that she had just finished clearing her desk of all of her paperwork—some small mercy in the midst of his usual chaos. “Why would you drink it so carelessly like that?”

Her words come with an exasperated sigh, but the laughter slips out anyway.

Would you care to dance?

“Nearl?” 

It’s just a name. One, single word. And it isn’t even wholly hers. But the name is her personal pocket of heaven. The word falls from her mouth the way a dove’s feather falls in its flight. Light. Airy. Like the tiniest breath from the Kuranta could blow it away. But she knows Nearl. Knows her Nearl. Knows that she has always treated her delicately, cupping her hands for when Liz would need a place to roost. Nearl means so much more to her than just a word, just a name. She is her rock, and the sword lodged in its crack. If ever she needed an unyielding beam of light to illuminate the path forward, Liz knows she would need to do little more than repeat this name–this one, single word. 

“With you? I wouldn’t dream of saying no.” 

Liz tends to the locks on her wheelchair. Her hands fumble with the mechanism in spite of all the practice she’s had, bones having grown thinner & more hollow since the last time it was used. Time will always be her worst enemy, and her greatest friend. It has managed to give her much–the memories she cherishes, the companions she keeps close–but works against her with every beat of her wings. Every day, she feels she sees less, remembers less. Lucky for her that she has such a radiant, unforgettable face to cling to–one which makes the most of every second. 

Her staff hits the ground. Even the sound it makes is hollow & meek. But there is strength in the girl who pulls her weight up with it. Determination courses through the muscle, the blood–the stretched canvas of skin–rising to meet her paladin. Liz’s best is the least Nearl deserves. 

It’s funny, her emotions are often wound around a spool, but with Nearl’s swordstaff she knits them into beautiful quilts & warm hats. Shining’s sword is used too, but she’s out fetching medical supplies right now. Liz almost feels bad making Nearl do it all herself. 

“But…” a pang of regret dampens the sound of her voice, her sky-hued gaze cast at the earth, “I can’t stand as long as I used to. I’ll need to borrow some of your strength.” One step at a time, she draws closer. She takes them on her own, walking with the kind of affirmation that denies any motion to help. This, she can do. This, she has to do. Because dancing is Nearl’s favorite thing to do, and Liz will use every ounce of her body to stay on her feet. Any effort, no matter if it buys her another minute, second, or fraction of time, is worth the trouble. She makes her way to the knight, sets her staff on a nearby table, and joins slender hands with her. Now, she is relying on her rock for stability. Now, she’s balancing her weight–trusting her weight–on Nearl. Wherever she leads, Liz will follow. This is the foundation of any dance, and theirs is no different.

“Now then… Would you like a Sarkaz folk song, or something from Kazimierz?” She finds her smile again. For a nameless piece of chalk sculpted into the likeness of a vessel, a smile is a lot for her to have. It brings her an unending amount of joy to share it with her Followers. “I can hum it if I remember…

Still, Nearl can’t help but take that final step in the end, once Liz is near enough, closing the distance between them as the other's hand comes to rest gently on hers.

“It's fine, Liz.” There shouldn’t be a need for her to sound so regretful like this. For as long as Liz needed her, Nearl had long vowed to stand unwavering—to be her sentry, her shield. A pillar that would never falter, no matter the cost. For those she cared for, for Liz, she would gladly give all of her strength, every last bit of herself, to grant her this bit of freedom. This soft, quiet bliss.

It… feels very selfish of Nearl, come to think of it. To always ask for a dance like this whenever the feeling takes over her. But just as how Nearl would never dare say no to any of Liz’s requests ( much to Shining's dismay, no doubt—she still remembers when she and Liz snuck out, once, to help those in need rather than rest ), Liz has never once turned her down, either. And so she will continue to ask. Because though their dance may be no more than but a simple waltz, with or without music to guide them, it is something Nearl will always treasure—something she will always make sure to remember.

She pulls Liz a little closer, her hand resting on her back to steady her, fingers softly squeezing the ones that rest in hers. Quietly, Nearl wonders if Liz knows how beautiful she looks like this. How the soft curve of her lips never fails to fill Nearl's heart with a warmth so gentle and comforting that it's sure to linger long after they've finished their dance.

It's a warmth that only makes Nearl want to hold onto this moment, even if just for a little while longer. A subtle tenderness that makes her heart squeeze with joy. One she hopes Liz shares.

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇.

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders [ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐊 ] ― sender and receiver fall into bed together on silk sheets [ 𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender pulls receiver’s hair ( gently / hard ) [ 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 ] ― sender strokes receiver’s hair [ 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender brushes receiver’s hair [ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 ] ― sender paints a picture onto part of receiver’s body ( specify what & where ) [ 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender traces their fingertips over receiver’s body [ 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender traces a scar on receiver’s body [ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 ] ― sender reaches out to hold receiver’s hand [ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 ] ― sender worships receiver’s body

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄.

[ 𝐔𝐍𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver something they’ve never tried before ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sour ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ] ― sender feeds receiver something sweet ( specify what ) [ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender feeds receiver something spicy ( specify what ) [ 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender kisses receiver to taste the lingering flavour of what they ate or drank on their lips ( specify what ) [ 𝐂𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender bites receiver hard enough to draw blood [ 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 ] ― sender feeds receiver soup when they’ve fallen ill [ 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ] ― sender makes receiver a cocktail to try [ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal [ 𝐓𝐑𝐘 ] ―  sender gives receiver a taste of what they’re cooking / baking for their opinion

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

[ 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃 ] ― sender blindfolds receiver [ 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver see each other again after a period of being apart [ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 ] ― sender notices something different about receiver ( injury / haircut / tattoo / piercing / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 ] ― sender greets receiver in formal partywear ( feel free to add detail ) [ 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 ] ― sender takes receiver to see lanterns in the sky [ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ] ― sender and receiver lay under the stars to stargaze [ 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ] ― sender and receiver lock eyes across the room [ 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender and receiver see a shadow move out the corner of their eye [ 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ] ― sender and receive watch as something burns ( candles / a building / a campfire / etc ) [ 𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender takes receiver to the aquarium to watch the sea life [ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐊 ] ― sender recognises receiver at a masquerade party

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.

[ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 ] ― sender puts on the radio to listen to music with receiver [ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 ] ― sender plays receiver their favourite song on an instrument ( specify what ) [ 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 ] ― sender and receiver are in bed together while rain lashes against the windows / tent / etc [ 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑 ] ― sender whispers something in receiver’s ear ( specify what ) [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song [ 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 ] ― sender and receiver hear a sound when they should be alone ( footsteps / creaking floorboards / a scream / etc ) [ 𝐇𝐔𝐌 ] ― sender hums a lullaby to lull receiver to sleep [ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 ] ― sender comforts a temporally deaf receiver after a loud sound ( gunshot / explosion / etc ) [ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐌 ] ― sender calms receiver down from a panic attack in a loud place [ 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 ] ― sender and receiver hear a muffled sound from another room / outside ( music / people / creature / etc ) [ 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 ] ― sender hears receiver crying and approaches comfort them

𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋.