#aira

It is 4 am, best time to get random thoughts and ideas anyway. Since Aria does cosplay (btw will we get character sheet for her too?) does that mean she like going to convention too? And just silly though goofy even what if couldn't go to convention because flight tickets either all booked or too expensive. And mc be like oh you wanna go okay bet steal airplane take her.(Definitely not an idea I wanna draw *cough*)

That is my question I will goo back to bed now.

Gooood morning... WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WAS 4 A.M.?! GO TO SLEEP!! 😭 And thank you for sending questions! :3 BUT GO TO BED!

Now, back to your questions!

First of all, I've seen a lot of people mixing up her name. It's AIRA. A-I-R-A. I know many people accidentally call her Aria, but the meaning changes quite a bit.

Just as a little reminder: Aira means "of the wind" or "born from the wind." You could say that Aira's existence was like a breath of fresh air for those around her—or at least that's what her mother believed when she was born. She was a source of relief during one of the hardest times in her life.

As for her character sheet... I REALLY NEED TO POST IT!! I keep forgetting, but I promise I have to upload it. I'm so sorry!! D:

And yes!! She absolutely goes to anime conventions! :D They're actually one of the few places where she feels safe enough to show her true form. Of course, she can't keep it up all day, or she could lose control, but doing it for short periods of time really helps her.

She even entered a cosplay competition once... and got 4th place! Her cosplay was great, but her stage performance wasn't the best. Ever since then, Aira took it personally and started practicing her performances much more seriously.(; ω ; )ヾ(´∀`* )

As for stealing airplanes... please don't.

Even if it sounds like a funny, sweet, and crazy romantic gesture, for Aira would actually HATE it. Sure, she's stolen a few things herself (FOR GOOD REASONS, AND NOBODY GOT HURT!!), but having someone commit crimes for her would only bring back painful memories of her ex. Extra fun fact: Aira once cosplayed Baymax! 🤍

It was one of her favorite cosplays to wear, and honestly... she looked really cute in it.

Pero la oscuridad de los poetas no es lo único que envidio, en el campo de la literatura. No terminaría nunca de hacer la lista. La literatura parece hecha para eso, tantas son las cualidades que se ponen en juego, y tantas son las excelencias que se han acumulado. Por ejemplo, querría tener la claridad de esos relatos en los que pasan hechos simplemente, sin reflexiones ni comentarios ni referencias a los mecanismos literarios (como en lo que escribo yo). Me hace avergonzar de mis infatuaciones de ingenio, de invención, frente al autor de esas narraciones prístinas desentendido de vanos narcisismos, elegantísimo. En su claridad sin sombras está agazapada una oscuridad discreta, que es muy difícil de ver.»

@ilbound

Job done, body devoured and soul handed off to his mother with a smile and kiss to cheek and Grave is on his way home. Ready to drop the illusions itching at his skin, to spread wings wide and simply collapse into bed. Catch some sleep after hunting the piece of shit for the last two days.

That was the plan, but he catches Aira's scent under perfume he doesn't recognise and accepts the fact he's probably not going to get any sleep for a while.

Pushing his bedroom door open he met with the sight of her bare stolen skin and stitches and little else. A smile for her, slightly predatory as he stalks towards the bed. Only to come up short at the single word she utters.

for when his mouth tears her flesh, there is no feeling ( how would there be ? ), but there is complete bliss. her arms hoist, swaddling his head, cradling him like a tot. “i picked a virgin’s flesh,” she mumbles, own head bowing to drag serpent’s tongue along the corner-seam of his lips, daring to graze a little closer this time to the open cavern of his mouth. “… thought y’d like som'in’ sweeter, huh?”

she lounges back, body open and willing, legs cocked around his hips, expression nothing but earnest. and, in a supplicant’s way, she gouges under her breast, stolen flesh squelching and gushing as she cracks ribs, “allegedly women were born from the rib of adam…” she shifts, tilting to make room for the bone pulled free, “so i'mma return the favor, babe.”

@ilbound

Humans as a whole are a boring species.  They don’t live long, don’t do anything, no flight or claws or sharp teeth, just stumbling through life and dying at the end of Thanatos’ scythe or his mother’s claws depending on their Fate.  Even the ones he hunts are boring, devoured and done and forgotten as the Hunger comes back. 

Aira though.  

Fuck.

Maw descends again, tearing at flesh so willingly given, gobbets sliding down throat to sit so perfectly inside him.  Wings shudder with each bite, with each second she keeps talking and moving under him, her arms cradling him as he feasts on her gore.  Closer he pulls her, claws catching at her thigh and drawing blood, sliver of flesh he slurps down.  Tongue he’s tempted to bite when it comes close until he gets a better idea.  Missing it and she can’t talk to him.  Much better to taste her while he can lick his own blood from her mouth.

“We were created as beings with four arms and legs an’ two faces but we were arrogant and were split apart as punishment.  Destined to live in despair until we found our other half.”  Bone he cracks between teeth, lapping at marrow while he stares down at her, gold eyes shining in the candlelight.  Clawed fingers play with wound she created, gore stained and dripping he offers them back to her, presses them against her mouth so she can bite.  Wants to mingle the taste of them together so he can drink it from her.  “Think my search is over.”

aira plucks idly at the seams of a new stitch, teasing her own work as if debating another unraveling. "... 's no good, huh?" voice rattles with the echo tones of the chords she consumed and swallowed, "ain't real enough. got the tits, got the cunt... some'in's still missin'." unceremoniously, the failure of a god-vessel plops onto her ass right there on the floor and cocks her limbs together like a broken doll. "you got any other ideas?" ( @ilbound aira for master michael uvu )

@ilbound

The prayers itch. Holy words against unholy skin and Michael feels his wings flutter, shiver shudder at his back, a silent rebellion of the creature inside the divine being. The Grace tries with all it's might to activate, to respond, but too long has it been smothered under the weight of the Other, of the wretched God nesting in angelic skin suit.

"Honestly I'm not even sure why you're bothering. God doesn't listen to his actual children, never mind whatever Soulless thing you are my dear." Though his words are harsh, his hand is gentle as it passes atop head, sweet caress that leaves ichor streaks behind like oil spill on bird wing. "Still, I suppose we could always capture you a soul?"

Abomination rounds in front of her, wing brushing against stitched skin, oil drip sinking into poorly fixed connection, burrowing inside. An idea he's had but hasn't voiced yet. He crouches, hand wrapped round ankle so very easy to tear away. Thumb brushing over threads as he stares at her. The thing inside watching, measuring. It's so very cramped in here, with the screaming of Michael and his lead heavy grace. He hopes.

"There are Angels who gather them. They flit down on their black wings at the request of their Throne and pluck them as the body breathes it's last. Cradle those so very delicate things to their breast and make their way back up to the Gates." As he talks, fingers walk along line of stitch, following it up calf like child on walls top. "Those Angels aren't very strong you know. Feeble little things, so very easy to crush." Hand clamps like vice around her knee, dragging her forward, further into his space as wings mantle and he looms over her. Pins her down with palm to chest, tapping over breast bone, sticky Void daubing hand print to flesh.