𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 !!

@silverwclf  ♡

SINNER IN ME - DEPECHE MODE

            ❛   i’ll never be a saint . that’s not a picture that your memory paints .   ❜   she was a hunter , she wasn’t someone to save others . she hunted what she knew how , leaving messy jobs to the more professionals . deaths following her wake , && she fled with guilt - free conscious .

❝ If you  think  there’s room for any  saints  in a place like this--- ❞ Pausing briefly, if not but to send her a  quizzical  look, lips pursing hard. The  sensation  of canine pressed to mouth stung, yet he was  CONTENT.  Releasing lip with a slowly-forming grin, head drops back smugly, as fingers  decorate  the forgotten handle of a dagger--- one he’d previously been making  good  use of, carving symbols of his name into the wood of its surface.

       “The fuck you lookin’ at, punk? If you’ve got somethin’ to say…    Then say it! Quit wastin’ my time!”

Echoing laughter,  elated  at the prize he’s won--- a little  BARK  from the other. Flippantly, he waves hand about, grinning  vulpine  smirk and allowing his  SHARP  canines to flash. Don’t worry, hon, he won’t bite;  hard.

I was writing this when my computer crashed, so I’m chopping my  300 WORD HEADCANON  up into three parts out of fear that my computer will return to cast vengeance on my sinner soul, but here we go. Part one !!

Orvellian is the language of the kingdom of Orvel. Using the names of some of the native Orvellians, I’ve decided that the closest region I’d place Orvel to, comparative to real-world geography, is Greece.  Reasons?

The names of some native Orvellians; Cassandra, Cleo, Selene, and  ARTEMIA  (whom is royalty)

As well as the geography of Orvel: a coastal nation that has oceans to the south with small clusters of barrier islands.

So, now that I have that little evidence, lol, now time to get to the parts I really like !! Headcanons. If they have names like these, it would make sense that their phonology is similar to Greek phonology, which means that Orvellians would speak in flowing, relaxed speech with a bit of a  trill  and a lot of retained, noble energy. Like Greek, it would contain more frontal sounds with some velar sounds, those that dwell in the back of the throat, and occupy a lot on the tongue.

I think it would be awesome the hear that !! I love Greek phonemes.

❝ Devil arms, changeling arms, ogre arms---  ANYTHING  for you, my blossom, ❞ comes the man’s  flirtatious  tone, whistling out between sets of sharpened teeth. Eyes linger upon face, before  directing  down her frame, and a delighted  hum  stirs from long throat. The word  ‘attracted’  doesn’t even  cover  it.

                            ╰ ｡ ⋅   ✞ ❜  MISSION 01. ⁏  @silverwclf​ ​ ❜   ⋅

             RETRACTION OF BLADE IS EASED;   as  DAEMON HUNTRESS  heaves tiresome exhale — lip pursed with slight irritation as form shifted upon  DISINTEGRATING  corpse of demons.  —–  HONEY  optics inhales sight of another —-  whom bares canines with maw boisterous   &&  mused —–  a flush of crimson upon cheek —-  &&  huntress fidgets —-  if for a moment.

              ❛   ah —- i’m sorry, i — might have taken a few of your kills…   ❜

            ❛   i wasn’t aware another hunter would be around fortuna as well —  ❜

NORMALLY  he’d be  appalled  at how little blood he’d gotten to  SPEW  over a kill-set like this, but he  couldn’t  complain when his companion was such a  lovely  little blossom. Useless pistols are thrown, perhaps a little  carelessly,  perhaps a little  DRAMATICALLY  to the holsters, hip cocking to the side as he  assesses  his new  PARTNER  with unguarded  interest.

❝ Hey,  hey,  no harm, no foul, girly--- ❞ Grin opened  WIDE,  a wolfish smile complete with  gleaming  fang. ❝ Color me  PLEASED  to have such a  fierce  little lady comin’ t’do my dirty work for me. ❞ 

A hand drops forth in greeting.

Though he  himself  had a  FLAIR  for the  dramatic,  the way the other twirls and parries and  flings  limbs out like a  HAILSTORM  is  more  than what even Mitra can acclaim to. Smoking pistols useless by his sides, he  ogles  the man, brows pinching in irritation. He was  ITCHING  for the smell of  cordite  in his nostrils, craving the  ‘BANG!’  resounding in his own eardrums----

And here he stood.

Useless.