Jun 5, 2025
Gold not knowing who Cyrus is: Nice doggy :)
Gold if he finds out who Cyrus is:
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Gold not knowing who Cyrus is: Nice doggy :)
Gold if he finds out who Cyrus is:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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@ancientsignal I want this to be canon
the air tastes cold and stagnant so far beneath the earth; he greets each inhale with the familiarity of an old friend. there will always be ruins — no matter what era one might find themselves in, no matter where their footsteps might lead. volo walks the breadth of the mural with slow, reverent strides. it was impressive, once — it's impressive still, though age has worn down the finer details of the story etched into stone. a rudimentary depiction of shadowy tendrils manages to catch his eye, however; he raises a hand, fingertips ghosting angry gouges that obscure the creature's figure. ordinarily, the vandalism would bid his blood to boil — yet now, volo regards it with a sense of grim satisfaction. coward. traitor.
shaken from his thoughts, the merchant spares a glance over his shoulder. ❝ oh? aren't you a curious sight. ❞ the words are tinged with gentle amusement, betraying not an ounce of the bitterness still simmering hot within his chest. ❝ i thought i was the only one willing to stray so far from the beaten track in search of ruins. ❞
@ancientsignal &&. liked for a STARTER.
saturn. don't make me tell you again.
it takes a deal of restraint to bite back the petulant retaliation that mentioning that man evoked. he lowers his gaze, almost visibly bristling. " ... yes sir."
Occultist!Cyrus: *using an ancient tome of forbidden ritual blood magic to summon a primeval God capable of consuming and remaking the universe as they know it* OldOne!Jae: *manifests horrifically in a cacophany of maddening howls that are neither anguished shriek nor wretched, miserable cries of endless despair* HAY, BABEEE- MIND IF I JAM A BOBA STRAW INTO YOUR SKULL AND TAKE A LIL SIPPY SIP? *BATS LASHES TO HIS MULTITUDINOUS SLITTED EYES*
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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new friends??? new friends??? :))))
worth it . . . elucidating it in that way allowed saturn to seize his despair and twist it into something useful. the world hadn’t been effaced and the ugliness of it persisted even as the wound of cyrus’s absence began to fester. things weren’t meant to end like that and part of him had been hopelessly attempting to rectify it ever since the world had slid out from beneath him. disoriented, saturn had only two paths forward; accept that end or struggle desperately. he chose the latter and as he did each moment that spanned the indeterminable time between this present and that past felt like an eternity. it dwelled in his jaded eyes, as if they had been bled of the vitality that had once stirred in them. saturn hadn’t realized it before but now he knew, chasing cyrus’s shadow had been an act of futility; he did it anyway, he kept doing it even after that fact had been exhumed. he has no idea how to name the feelings that seethed within him now; resentment, relief, all of it blurred with riotous sediment as it churned violently. it was a reunion he should be grateful for but that once succinct word becomes amorphous as he attempts to wedge the feeling into its sharp contours. now, even as they occupied this moment in the present together, the distance between them only grew.
❝ … why are you apologizing ? ❞ how incongruous that felt, the serrated edge of a knife dragged across his skin leaving blooming goosebumps in its wake. cyrus had never been contrite, hearing it upon his tongue now, with something that weighs like sincerity, makes him nauseous. ❝ I chose to follow you, wanted to follow you.❞ where cyrus had only ever offered him candour, no matter how glacial, saturn had been reticent, craving his approval enough to never part with something that might be considered inappropriate. enduring that dark, depthless silence had divested him of something, something that makes those words come with such urgency. fear, fear that if he didn’t the man before him, real, corporeal, would slip between his fingers once again.
❝ that hasn’t changed.❞ even if at times looking at him felt unbearable. ❝ the destination.. even if that does change, i’ll choose it again.❞ again and again until it no longer felt like burying his hands in the lesion that loss had carved into his skin.
@ancientsignal.
☁️
Send ☁️ for a childhood memory!
Andiilan summers are always punishingly hot, temperatures rising as high as 40°c on the low end - but it's not quite a wet heat, just a... damp heat.
It's still funny watching the tourists try to cope with it, clad in their heavy synthetic clothing and room temperature water as they stumble through the streets of Dragonsbone City.
Mama tells you about a Unovan child who tried to break off a chunk from the city walls - a fools errand, you know, and you tell her as much as Mama drapes a cotton headscarf over the back of your head, pinned in place behind your ears and, with small cords, tied under the overwhelming majority of your loose hair.
The walls of Dragonsbone City are literally impenetrable - not because of the building - you would know, you licked a section of the walls yesterday - but because of the strange magic over your region bringing well recited fables and... well, anything said with enough faith in it - into reality.
You stand, small frame actually protected from the heat - make direct eye contact with Arkē, grabbing the Axew and bolting out the door into the sweltering heat.
One of the childminders is close behind, as always, but you don't mind today. There is fresh fruit on the trees, and you want to visit the stationary store three streets down.