Send my muse some flowers to convey your muse’s feelings towards them!
Acacia Blossom– Concealed Love
Alstroemeria– Friendship
Ambrosia– Your Love is Reciprocated
Amaryllis– Splendid Beauty
Anemone– Forsaken, Fading Hope
Azalea– Take Care of Yourself for Me
Bird of Paradise– Joyfulness
Begonia– Beware
Bells of Ireland– Good Luck
Bouquet of Withered Flowers– Rejected Love
Camellia General– Admiration
Camellia Pink– Longing for You
Camellia White– You’re Adorable
Candy Tuft– Indifference
Carnation Pink– I’ll Never Forget You
Carnation Red– My Heart Aches for You
Carnation Yellow– Disdain, Rejection or Dissapointment
Chrysanthemum General– You’re a Wonderful Friend
Chrysanthemum White– Loyal Love
Chrysanthemum Yellow– Slighted Love
Cyclamen– Resignation, Good-bye
Daffodil– Rebirth, New Beginnings
Daisy– Innocence, Purity
Dandelion– Faithfulness
Dead Leaves– Sadness
Fern Maidenhair– Secret Bond of Love
Forget-Me-Not– Memories, Remember Me Always
Gardenia– Secret Love
Geranium– Stupidity, Folly
Gladiolus– Strength of Character, Honor
Gloxinia– Love at First Sight
Grass– Submission
Hyacinth Purple– I Am Sorry, Please Forgive Me, Sorrow
Hyacinth Yellow– Jealousy
Iris Yellow– Passion
Iris Blue– Faith, Hope
Jonquil– Love Me, Desire for Affection Returned
Lilly Calla– Beauty
Lilly Orange– Hatred
Lilly-Of-The-Valley– Sweetness, Return to Happiness, You’ve Made My Life Complete
Marigold– Cruelty
Mistletoe– Kiss Me, Affection
Morning Glory Red– Attachment
Nightshade (Deadly) Belladonna– Silence, Falsehood,
Orange Mock– Deciet
Orchid– Exotic Beauty, Proud and Glorious Femininity
Peony– Bashfulness, Compassion, Shame
Petunia– Resentment, Anger
Pine– Pity
Primrose– I Can’t Live Without You
Rose Dark Crimson– Mourning
Rose Dark Pink– Thankfulness
Rose Orange– Fascination
Rose Red– Love, Respect
Rose Yellow– Joy, Friendship
Spider Flower– Elope With Me
Sunflower– Pure Thoughts, Adoration, Warmth
Sweet-Pea– Departure, Good-bye, Thank You for A Lovely Time
Tulip Red– Declaration of Love
Tulip Variegated– Beautiful Eyes
Tulip Yellow– There’s Sunshine in Your Smile
Violet Blue– Watchfulness, Faithfulness, I’ll Always Be True
Violet White– Let’s Take a Chance on Happiness
Viscera– Will You Dance With Me?
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The head of House Lancaster, making their home by way of Helm Rock in the lands of Westfall. A refugee that came south after the fall of Lordaeron, along with his sons, Arthur, Erion and Richard.
Regarded by most of his peers in the noble community as a kind man, who never ceased to smile and always had a direction to go in terms of business. In truth he was quite famous for the act of business, bringing wealth and prosperity to the House of Lancaster in it’s time, though always considered lesser after his wife, Sarive Lancaster died. Was slain at Castle Highstar during Starfall on Richard Lancaster’s command. Edric has little memories of his grandfather.
A sense of unease and complete sickness had washed over Edric’s entire body. The skies that were tainted with Fel had moved on elsewhere. To the north. Edric reached up a hand to brush the sand from his face and scan his surroundings.
This was the Gold Coast, he’d know it anywhere. Half a day south, there stood Highport. A day’s ride north, Raven’s Watch, and just past that–Stormwind. Around him lie what was left of the Blackbanner Company, shattered lances, crates, bodies of men and horse alike washed up on the beach. The Legion had bled the seawater red and left none behind to survive, none except him. In the distance, the fields still burned. Perhaps because they thought he was dead? Lucky him.
The sellsword attempted to stand, but fell right back down onto his knee and vomited salt-water onto the sand. It seemed like death would wash over him every time he heaved up the remaining water in his system. Disheveled and soaked were both his hair and clothing. But the worst thing? The smell; fire, rot, and saltwater. Enough to send Edric into a fit of coughing.
“You’re not looking so good, my friend.”
Perhaps…the worst thing wasn’t the smell after all.
Send me a face claim and I will use that face claim to make an NPC in my muse's life, as well as talk about their relationship, connection, and feelings towards my muse.
https://swordsandliars.tumblr.com/post/165421042182/here-at-the-end-of-all-things-part-one Link to part one!
Argus. The lost Draenei homeworld. Honestly I couldn’t give two fucks about this shithole--the least this place can do is warn against what magic can do to man. But then again, I’m a walking warning.
I’ve never flown before. Always walked or sailed, I like to keep my feet on the ground. Something surreal about flying and teleporting, walking through portals. Nothing as surreal as the Shadowlands, though. And here, I think it’ll be my permanent residence here sometime quick.
Who wants to live forever?
“The Fields of Antorus.”, Korehn had leveled a finger at Davrel.
“I don’t know where that is.”
The Draenei huffed and folded his arms, leveling a glare at the Lord Richards. “Perhaps if you had paid attention, you might.”
Davrel lifted his shoulders in a small shrug and shook his head. “Remember what I said to you when we first met? Around the area of five days ago? You don’t, do you?”
Korehn had sighed. “You’ve said far too many vile things in those -five- days for me to keep track of all of them that meant something.”
“Show me a good fight, and I’ll show you the corpses of a thousand demon whores.”
Korehn had bowed his head. Pointing at the light-map, that argueably, made Davrel a little uneasy. “There. Is where you and your own are going.”
“That’s a lot of demons. Not enough of your own cannon fodder to send forward to die? That’s fine. We’ll do what you can’t.”
The Draenei had growled slightly. “We’re -not- using you as cannon fodder. We hold more value to life than that. You are a diversion, the moment it gets too difficult to hold your position, you retreat.”
“No.”
“No?”, Korehn shook his head, incredulousness in both his voice and face.
“Mine don’t retreat. I don’t retreat. May be different where you come from, goat man--but I know these people. They may be northern, and I may be a southern man, but I’m as much of one of them as they are. The men and maidens of Fury Keep don’t run from a fight.”
The Draenei around Korehn had whispered among themselves. The monstrosity of magic that Davrel was and his sword had made the Lightwielders all too uneasy. And his manner of speaking.
“Very well.”
The airship that was going to carry them into the heart of Legion territory, so that others may accomplish a mission--was doomed from the start. Fire rained from the black skies and Felbats with demon riders had flown across the deck and bow.
Davrel had fastened himself to the nose of the ship, keeping Ail’ema wrapped by the blade in one hand. He meant to ram the entire demon host--him and his men. His force of a hundred and fifty. The others he donated to the Army of the Light. He wouldn’t be denied a death again.
A shot rang on the hull. This was it. They were going down.
“Who wants to live forever?!”, he shouted backwards as the airship descended and descended. A ball of green and white fire. Cheers from the men behind him erupted as the wood crashed into the rock of the surface--skidding as Demons scrambled to get clear.
Davrel let out a roar as the ropes he held on to buckled and swayed. Rocking back and forth and howling like a rabid dog. The sword glowing with the intensity of his rage. The ship came to a stop and he leapt off the head of the ship. Eyes scanning for foes. A wounded wrathguard, clamoring for his weapons.
Davrel strode forward and flipped Ail’ema to hold it by the hilt. Bringing the weapon with a howl across the demon’s chest. Dead before he hit the ground. Davrel scanned the field--demons still shocked by the ram. He laughed, and his men descended after him. A smile was worn as Davrel strode to another demon, an Eredar female.
She had attempted to cast a spell, a tendril reached out-- a death grip that pulled her close and into the force of his fist. Making sound connection with the bridge of her nose, Davrel raised his terrible blade and cleaved hard into the demon’s skull.
Davrel’s men had made their way onto the burning field. Cleaving through demon and bone with axe and sword. Weapons made of iron and blood. They fought furiously as the fire descended from the sky and brought infernals. Hounds of Fel rolled over the hills with Wrathguard riders shouting and screaming. And Davrel?
Davrel was cleaving through scores and scores of demon. Wrathguard, Doomguard, Eredar and Felhound. Each demon that crossed his path had met an untimely end. A brutal end.
Another Felhound had lept at Davrel, he reared back a punch and brought it across the snout of the beast, sending it to the floor adjacent to him. He brought up a heavy leather boot and stomped on it’s skull twice. It didn’t move anymore. A sword had came for him, striking hard across his chest and in a rage--the Lord brought his sword to the left.
Intercepted by another sword. Another wrathguard that knew how to fight. A wonder. Delighted, Davrel ripped Ail’ema from the blade bind and swung down again. Both swords met, he brought a knee up into the groin and met with astounding results. Davrel’s chest now on fire with the force of fell, the wound burning. Normally it would send men into agony, but Ail’ema kept him living and fighting. And angry.
He swept the demon’s two swords away with a single strike that took both hands of the wrathguard warrior and brought the sword down into his skull. So hard that it was stuck there. A force he felt wrapped around his neck. One that halted the breath that attempted to escape his throat. Not that he needed it.
“HRRGH--”
He was ripped back and onto his back. Another Eredar, male and barely dressed for battle. Holding a whip that was burned with green fire. Davrel wrapped his hands around the surface of the whip and stood to spring forward and launch a fist into the gut of the Eredar. The red skinned demon buckled and widened eyes in surprise as Davrel pressed his attack. Whip wrapped around his neck he launched another hard fist into his face. Davrel untangled the whip from around his neck and proceeded to snap the demon’s neck with a vicious twist. CRACK!
Davrel held out his hand behind him and the sword ripped itself from the wrathguard’s head and back into Davrel’s hand.
Now, his forces were being decimated. Infantry against demon cavalry on demons akin to wolves. A catastrophe, but nonetheless him and his warriors fought on. Demons cleaving through flesh and bone, a man getting cut in two--intestines spilling from his gut and onto the black rock ground--where hounds ripped him to pieces.
Three beserkers climbing onto a doomguard and butchering him with axe. An arm, an eye. A heart.
“RRRAAARGH!”, Davrel charged forward into the fray. Hacking and slashing. His chest tightened and his throat burned. Wounds of magic had an effect that Ail’ema held at bay as long as the blade was fed.
Dwindling.
The human forces of Fury Keep were outclassed, despite their ferocity and battle prowess. No match for magic. No match for the Legion. Before long the one hundred and fifty became one hundred.
Then fifty.
Then twenty five.
And now ten. Davrel and nine others. The white haired death knight let out heavy breaths, the black sword glowing a bright crimson. The fear around him from his men was palpable. They were going to die and they knew that, it was only a matter of how horrible. Now they were surrounded.
Lynnerys.
Davrel closed his eyes and grit his teeth.
Elaianna Sydor.
He shifted his eyes left and right, bracing his sword across his chest as he charged forward into the surrounding demons. Slashing horizontally to remove the cap of a demon hound and sending the rider to the floor. Where Davrel sprinted forward and decapitated him with a downward diagonal stroke.
Amelia.
He seized another wrathguard by the neck and rammed his sword through his chest as another had rammed a sword into his back and out his chest. He grimaced and he turned around whipping his sword back to open the throat of the Eredar who wounded him so greatly. He doubled over.
His men were being eaten by a pack of felhounds. Legs and entrails flew into the air as they feasted on the remaining nine. Only him now. He snapped the spear and tore the shaft out of his back. Casting it to the ground and vomiting blood upon the sword.
‘Ugh.’, the sword had whispered. Davrel paid it no heed as he swung with more force at a fel-bat that had dove down and sought to end the attack. Davrel slid down as he swung-- ripping open the bat as it crashed into demons behind him. And then, they stopped--and simply stared. Waiting.
Davrel narrowed a raven brow as he shifted in place, observing for who he would take next. Through grit teeth he spoke.
“Send me more pigs to kill.”
A thundering step from behind him. He looked over his shoulder. A great, winged beast, bearing a glaive the size of a long boat in one hand. Tusks like towers. A pit lord. Davrel spit blood on the floor, as his armor was soaked from head to toe in both his own blood and the blood of demonkind.
The pit lord stared down, silent. Davrel grinned wide and rose his sword high in an offensive stance. Posta di falcone.
The pit lord chuckled in infernal regard at Davrel’s display of futile defiance. He raised his glaive and held it with both hands. He swept it to the left as if sweeping dust from a porch. Davrel had braced his sword across his chest, but was sent flying across the field, and skidding onto the ground. He lay on his back. His sword-- a notable notch in the side. The crimson light flickering.
‘Lightbringer.’
He grit his teeth and stood up, his entire body breaking under pressure. A mind that would refuse to let it break. “Rrhgh.”, he let out a heavy sigh. The pit lord remained where he was. All too confident. Davrel broke into a jog, as fast as he could run under the pressure his body undertook, despite the magic. In a few minutes, he reached the pit lord once more and returned a strike. He set his glaive point down into the ground where Davrel struck--and the sword met the glaive for the last time.
The blade shattered.
A blast of crimson energy sent every demon within fifty meters onto their back, and the pitlord staggering slightly with a look on his face that registered surprise. Davrel flew across the field once more, and onto his back. The blade shattered.
Tanelorn’s gift leaving him. Reirandis Veilios was free. He felt warmth return to his body, color return to his skin and hair. Hair upon his face. And pain. Finally, pain. It rendered him numb, his chest open and his throat burning. The ice in his eyes melted.
Storm colored eyes that no one would see the like of again and in the dark of the sky--he saw eyes.
‘Lightbringer.’
Blue eyes. Lynanerys.
‘Lightbringer.’
Green eyes. Amelia.
‘Lightbringer.’
Blue eyes. Elaianna.
‘Lightbringer.’
And eyes of silver, that shone like the moon.
‘Lightbringer.’
Elia.
And with her name, came the great dark. He stood once more upon the floor of the black forest.
‘Goodbye.’
OOC:
And this, ends the story of Davrel Richards. I want to thank each and every one of you that had a role to play in this character’s story from the moment he was created and to the moment he died.
You all have done so much for me and made me a better person and RPer. I’ll still be around, but Davrel’s story has ended here. Don’t worry. I’ll still be RPing and writing in WoW. But all of you are wonderful people, and I wanted to take some time to recognize that in ending a story that’s meant so much to me.
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OOC Warnings for swearing, adult themes and excessive violence in part 2.
Written by Archibald Lewin.
Davrel Richards II, was born in Elwynn Forest, shortly after the Orcish Horde burnt the city of Stormwind to the ground. To Jon Richards and Mary Westerlin. He grew up in the city of Stormwind, when it was rebuilt. For a short time he lived in refugee camp to refugee camp. His father a butcher, son of the paladin Davrel Richards I. Davrel the second, was one of two children. He had a little sister, Aerilith Richards.
A troubled life, he lived. Fighting, stealing, drinking and whoring. Many called him Dog. And that was the name he took. Davrel ‘Dog’ Richards. Eventually in his circles, he became quite the renowned fighter, like his grandfather before him. That caught the sight of the Duskwood Brotherhood, two envoys from the brigands came to the streets of Old Town. Knives Alley, they called it. Southerners with their names.
The two were Lynnaerys Sunleaf, and Dagran Wildfeather. A Quel’dorei and a Dwarf who took to raiding and reaving the Elwynn and Duskwood noble earnings. Davrel needed no convincing. He served for a time, even found first love in Lynnaerys. Fate however, played cruel. The guard descended upon the Brotherhood and killed Lynnaerys and Dagran--but left two alive. Davrel and a man called Rodham of Elwynn.
Davrel was given a choice, serve in the campaign against Arthas Menethil-- the Lich King. Or die by hanging. He served once more, in the armies of Stormwind. Serving under Lord-Commander Merel Kerdran, he fought as a conscript for two years--until he was discharged under other than honorable conditions.
Some stories say he murdered Rodham of Elwynn after a betrayal he suffered, and killed a Knight in a trial by combat by the name of Rodrick Lancaster. Some stories yet have truth.
He disappeared from the east for a long time. Sailing with pirates and keeping company with thieves. Until he came into the service of a Lady Elaianna Sydor--the Baroness of Barrowfield. He served as her personal bodyguard, even he found love again--but out of his reach. A daughter he had from an orphanage. Amelia Richards. He refuses to tell me more.
And then he died, fighting under the Sydor banner at Rivervale--the holding of Sandranessa Drex’raclir. And then raised once more as a Death Knight--granted the terrible runeblade Ail’ema to reave and reap life under the puppetry of the Lich Tanelorn.
He broke free under a pact he made with the Lich. And he came north to the White Isle. And slew Erik Norwood in single combat for the rightful rule of Fury Keep and the White Isles.
A true Ironlord.
“Cunt.”
Davrel had growled out. The green orb that was Argus, looming over the sky like doom. He had glared at it with ice in his eyes and his hand gripping Ail’ema as if strangling the life from it.
“My lord. The Draenei emmisary is here.”
He turned, glaring past the armsman. “Get our ships ready to make sail.”
The armsman bowed and took his leave, shouting to passing servants as he did. Davrel’s cloak swayed and billowed in the harsh, white winds. The Draenei stood in the center of the courtyard--practically glowing. Light radiating off his body. Davrel squinted as if looking at the sun.
“You are Lord Richards, no?”
‘Be careful, Lightbringer. The Naaru’s lackeys aren’t to be trusted.’
Davrel tilted his head. “I am.”
“You have made your pledge to fight along side the Army of the Light on Argus.”
The Lord Richards had frowned and folded his arms, sneering as he often did now--with the stresses of Lordship about him. “Show me a good fight, and I’ll show you the corpses of a thousand-thousand demon whores.”
The Draenei had reared back at his words, staring at him in fright. Before clearing his throat. “Well. Your--mm. Enthusiasm is quite remarkable, Lord Richards. I am Korehn, and I will be your liason to the Vindicar--and your way to Argus. Give me the word--and I will set a beacon here, so that you and yours may fight.”
Davrel lifted a hand. “One moment. I’m going to speak to my warriors.”
Korehn nodded.
Davrel ripped a horn from a passing armsman’s hand and blew it. Sounding off a horn blast throughout the entirety of Fury Keep.
“Gather here! Now!”, Davrel had shouted out. Slowly, warriors, men and women alike would gather in the courtyard. Davrel did not stand on a pedestal. Level ground. He’d turn.
“You know where we’re going. You’ve heard about it for weeks. A place none of us have been before. Hell. What kind of fucked world we live in that hell is up there instead of down below us?”
A chuckle rang through the warriors gathered.
“A fucked world. That’s what. And now the Southern Lords are gathering their banners, handing pikes to peasants and sending them to the sky for demon food. I’m not about to wait here in the dead of winter, to let the south fuck things into the ground. We’re going, and we’re going to make sure that every demon gets it through their head, that they pay the price. We paid ours. Time to make them pay theirs.”
“Let’s go murder them.”
A cheer rang through the ranks as Davrel approached Korehn. “Set the beacon.”
‘To war, once more. I wish I could say I was anticipatory of the experience, but demon blood doesn’t taste very good.’, Ail’ema rang on in the back of his head.
IC: "Lovely woman. Met her once while I was under the influence of the sword. I was a different man then and I suspect I won't be the same. But if it's one thing I haven't forgotten, it's faces. And hair kissed by fire." OOC: I've gotten a little distant from a lot of cool people. Work has eaten me alive and I'm so sorry I don't get around more. I love writing with you and hope to do more!
█ ☽ │— Three Characters
❛ Reblog Repost with 3 GIFs of fictional characters you most associate with your OC. ❜
Tagged by: @bxrrows
Tagging: @quellys @lady-sydor @theodorebennas @warlundblackfyre and @eveshadows
For Davrel Richards.
ASH WILLIAMS (ARMY OF DARKNESS.):
Davrel Richards when I first started the character was based off of Bruce Campbell’s performance of the character ‘Ash’ from the movie Army of Darkness, the sequel to Evil Dead 2. The intention was to have a character that was capable of being light hearted, likable yet unlikable to a substantial degree. Even with what he’s been through, he still hasn’t lost his ‘groove’. Ash and Davrel both are braggarts, womanizers and inappropriately humorous.
His appearance is also based on Bruce Campbell’s look throughout the movie-- a jawline that can kill, ladies and gentleman.
SER BRONN OF THE BLACKWATER (Game of Thrones.):
Bronn and Davrel are similar in professional mindset. Competent to a fault, and through their pursuit of money they get caught in the middle of situations far bigger than they are-- and it usually costs them greatly. Also Davrel’s fighting style is similar to that of Bronn’s. ‘You wanna’ fight pretty or do you wanna’ win?’
ELRIC OF MELNIBONE (The Ruby Throne, Weird of the White Wolf.):
Elric of Melnibone is the most parallel to Davrel’s character out of any of the previous mentions. Elric is a sorcery inclined, pale elf sellsword that has an evil, sentient sword called ‘Stormbringer’. The parallel between Elric and Davrel ends there as their attitudes are completely separate--only parallels that exist between them are the situations both of them bear and the constant theme of solitude.
And the recurring tone of Dark Fantasy. (Also couldn’t find a gif for Elric, forgive me. :c)
❤️send to have a romantic ship with my muse
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💕send to have a family type relationship with my muse
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Davrel had removed his hood, letting his white hair fall freely. He had shifted his weight to his right foot. This place, Duskwood, was sacred–to him anyway. It was where Davrel began, and where Davrel ended.
‘Lightbringer.’
Davrel looked to his sword.
‘Take heed, lest you lose yourself in the memory of this place. It is only a memory, they cannot harm you anymore.’
“Bullshit. Those are the only things that harm me anymore.”
The sword hissed audibly. ‘You should learn when to take advice.’
“And you should learn when to shut your whore…whatever you talk with.”
'Telepathy. Shut my whore telepathy. Eloquent.’
Davrel had rolled his eyes and proceeded forth into Duskwood. “One more smart remark and I forget to sharpen you.”
'Shaking from pommel to tip.’
–
Ten minutes later.
A shriek was heard.
'Ooh. Violence.’
Davrel had turned his head, shaking back and forth. “Not my problem.”
'Feed me.’
“Not a chance, underpants.” Davrel spoke as he tightened the grip on his sword.
'It may be Amelia in danger.’
“She’s dead, bozo. Gone. Deceased. Ash, asshole. Don’t play your games with me, I’ll bring that ass to the nearest Paladin and you’re done.”
'Are you so certain? You need me, Lightbringer. And I need you. The brigands deserve it.’
Davrel had sighed and stalked toward the noise. “Someone said the same thing about me, once.”
–
A woman clad in a white, simple gown– dirtied by the soggy Duskwood mud. Barefoot and young, looked to be from Westfall standing aside a broken cart. Alone.
The woman had caught sight of Davrel.
“Please sir, I n-need aid! Bandits took–”
“Yeah, yeah. Listen sweetheart, I’m not game for a sob story, tell me where they are and maybe I can ask for a spare.”
“A spare?” The woman had raised a brow.
“Spare cart.”
A string of a bow was heard pulling back.
“Gonna 'ave to ask real noice-like, boyo.”
Davrel incredulous, had turned around to stare at a brown haired male with a beard and three men flanking him. One with the bow, the others with swords.
“Really?” Davrel had spoke.
“Really wot’?”
“This is what brigands are now. I’m kind of insulted.”
“You’re the one bein’ robbed here. So give us the gold, or bleed.”
Davrel widened out his arms. “I only have thirty silvers.”
“Good 'nough hand it over.”
“Take it from me.”
The lead brigand widened out his arms. “You daft? Hand o'er your silvers or Reed 'ere will hand you an arrow.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Take wot?”
“The arrow.”
Reed had let forth an arrow into Davrel’s chest. To which Davrel had reeled back onto the ground with an 'Oof!’ and a thud.
“Search him, Reed. Your kill, your prize.”
Reed, smugness across his lithe features, he proceeded to stride up to Davrel’s fallen figure. A hand shot up to wrap around Reed’s neck.
A gasp of surprise took him as Davrel tore his throat out. Davrel cast aside the flesh and Reed’s corpse.
“Grrhm. Give me a second boys. Heartburn.”, he gestured to the arrow in his chest before slowly tearing it out. “Ahhh…yow, ohowh.”, he shook the arrow.
“Okay, okay. Ready to rumble. Come and ge–”, Davrel had turned to see the Brigands were gone.
“Great. No balls, no brains and no pride. What happened to the old ways?”
7. You have the key to immortality in your hands. But not for free. If you want it, as a price, your worst enemy also gains immortality. Is it worth it?
The paladin rubbed his chin, “I do not fear death. I never have. In fact, I even welcome it. As for your question, I require context. I have several among me that I would consider my worst enemy. This Devreaux man. The demon that calls herself Charlotte.” He shook his head, “One is gone. But the other is quite the monstrosity. He must not be allowed to gain such power. No matter how I would like to live in perpetuity to live beside the woman I love, I could never abide such evil to be granted such a power as well.”
What is, or was, Davrel's favorite thing about living that he can't do anymore? Leave relationships with other people and larger moral quagmires out - I mean physical acts, however seemingly insignificant. Can he still eat his favorite foods? Do they still taste the same? What about smelling fresh air, or breathing? Does he need sleep? Does he sleep anyway? Is it "restful"?
1. Davrel’s favorite thing about living was no doubt alcohol. When he had memories of Northrend or any of the other mishaps in his life, he’d just get shitfaced in attempt to forget.
2.) He can eat his favorite foods. His favorite food is bread, though it serves no purpose but to keep his body in somewhat of a stable condition as not magic alone can maintain the illusion of humanity. Perhaps he’s trying to convince himself.
3.) He cannot smell fresh-air, in fact most of his greater senses that are not functional, such as sense of smell and taste. Though not completely gone, death has indeed inhibited his ability to smell certain things and especially taste. Though his eyesight and hearing are well in tact and almost at peak efficiency.
4.) He does not need sleep. He needs to, once every 24 hours, to commune with his blade. If he doesn’t the whispers of his runesword will spur him into violent rage and irrational behavior. Though he can sleep, he only requires to commune with the sword.
5.) His sleep is not restful, it has no effect on him.
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If you could wake up tomorrow and have gained one ability, what would it be and why? (IC ask.)
“The ability to feel as most do. I am excluded and I feel aloof from many conversations and people who would consider me friends because I have the incapability of feeling as they do.”
♦ EYES : Blue | Green | Brown | Hazel | Grey | Other (Ice.)
♦ HAIR : Blonde | Brown | Black | Red | Ginger | Grey/White | Multi-color | Other (…)
♦ BODY TYPE : Skinny | Slender | Slim | Built | Curvy | Athletic | Muscular
♦ SKIN : Pale | Light | Fair | Freckled | Tan | Olive | Medium | Dark | Discolored | Other (Deathly pale.)
♦ FACIAL FEATURES : Scars (Two on his cheeks, one on his lip.) | Markings (…) | Scales (…) | Fur | Beard | Ears (…) | Other (…)
♦ BODY FEATURES : Scars (Runic carvings all over.) | Markings (…) | Scales (…) | Fur | Tail (…) | Paint | Other (…)
♦ GENDER : Male | Female | Trans | Cis | No Gender | Other (…)
♦ SEXUALITY : Heterosexual | Homosexual | Bisexual | Pansexual | Asexual | Demisexual | Other (…)
♦ SPECIES : Hyur (…) | Elezen (…) | Miqo’te (…) | Lalafell (…) | Roegadyn (…) | Au ra (…) | Other (Human/Wraith)
♦ EDUCATION : Can read | Can write | Tutor | Mentor | School | Other (Rudimentary knowledge of magic.)
♦ LIVING SITUATION : Lives alone | Lives with parents/guardian | Lives with significant other | Lives with a friend | Lives with a group of people (…) | Drifter | Homeless | Other (…)
♦ PARENTS/GUARDIAN : Mother | Father | Adoptive | Foster | Grandparents | Family friend | Other (…)
♦ RELATIONSHIP : Single | Crushing | Dating | Engaged | Married | Separated | It’s complicated | Other (…)
♦ I’VE BEEN : In Love | Hurt | Sick | Abused | Other (Been dead.)
♦ I HAVE A(N) : Learning Disorder | Personality Disorder | Mental Disorder | Anxiety Disorder | Eating Disorder | Substance-related Disorder | Other (Wraith living inside my sword.)
♦ THUNGS I’VE DONE BEFORE : Drank alcohol | Smoked | Done drugs | Stolen | Self harmed | Starved myself | Had sex | Gotten into a fist fight | Was severely injured | Gone to jail | Used a fake ID | Gone to a party | Killed someone(s)
Rules : BOLD what applies to your muse, ITALICIZE what applies under specific circumstances. Remember to REPOST. Feel free to add to the list. Blank sheet can be found > HERE < !!!
Tagged by : @wraithclaw
Tagging : @mira-mikaelson @quellys @mediocre-bladeleaf
Edric West. @swordsandliars - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
