#angvisinvidia

@angvisinvidia  @ursus-aced

Aced

'although my heart may be weak, it's not alone. It's grown with each new experience. and it's found a home with all the friends I've made. I've become a part of their heart, just as they're become a part of mine.

And if they think of me now and then, if they don't forget me, Then our hearts will become one. I don't need a weapon. My friends are my power!” [ also sorry if long text but meant to say They've instead of they're.. ^^; hope you didn't mind ]

well holy shit you weren’t lying LOL ten points to you my friend!! (also lbr, this is a font sora'd probably use and think of as "cool" at some point in his life LMAO)

kaospersona replied to your post

I don't understand Moon Speak

my moon shoes are my power

lockethart replied to your post.

too fANCY FOR MY PEASANT EYES

this is the font of the future, it's the only font we'll ever need from now on

angvisinvidia replied to your post.

my eyes just went to hell

Just let me die in peace. At hearing that Myde almost found it within himself to feel sorry for the woman--almost; he hadn’t forgotten how she’d almost killed Even. Stood a few paces away, the blonde crossed his arms and regarded her with a frown and furrowed brows. “We don’t plan on leaving you to die.” Though they all very well may have done just that in years gone by, Myde had been forced to tell himself that they weren’t like that any more. 

The chains and confinement had simply been a necessary precaution, save them any further incident until they could be sure she wasn’t a threat, and until they could figure out just how she had made it into the castle undetected. 

Send “Flashback” to have your muse see one of my muse’s bad memories | accepting!

The place is uncertain, unfamiliar – it’s everywhere and nowhere, but the only thing certain is the huge, endlessly huge tree that looms above the pair of figures standing beneath its branches. The trunk seems miles wide and further, and though the branches at the bottom can be seen – each as big as a full-grown tree in its own right – it disappears into the clouds, stretching further than imagination.

The two men beneath the boughs are…well, one is an old man, mage’s robes in stormcloud grey and earthy brown wrapped around him, a snowy beard trailing low almost like a fairytale wizard.

The other is Braig, the Master – younger, wilder, scruffier. Not the Master yet, with both eyes brown and stubborn, still too young and unseasoned. Still unknowing.

A conversation, half-hushed, is spoken between them. There are some words that can be made out – ‘magic’ ‘future’ ‘eye’ ‘price’ – though, and that should be enough to piece it together.

Braig doesn’t hesitate once the mage names the price – a hunting knife appears in his hand from its hidden sheathe, and he stares the man down with a sort of dead-eyed determination one has when they have nothing to lose and everything to gain.

“I told you,” Braig says. “I’ll do anything to find my family.”

With that said, he flips the knife in his hand and carves out his right eye with nary a scream of pain, teeth clenched as he drops to his knees, knife tumbling out of his hand as he presses it over the bloody socket.

The mage stares impassively. “So you did,” he says. “And your payment is accepted. You shall have the Gazing Eye that sees the future as it is written. But have my warning: you shall have what you asked for, but it is not a power to be used lightly. All who have been given the Eye before you have gone insane within scant years or less, and the Eye returns to me.”

“I’m…not them,” Braig rasps out, and the mage shakes his head – he lifts a hand, and a familiar blue orb appears in it, glowing faintly. With a flash of light, it’s gone, and the socket beneath Braig’s hand glows blue.

There’s a brief moment of silence as Braig – now more recognizably the Master, with one brown eye and one ethereal blue – drops his hand, staring into space with a look that shifts quickly from wonder to shock to horror.

“No,” he says, and again, louder. “No! No, that can’t, that won’t– I wouldn’t– they’re children!”

The mage shakes his head. “The future is not something you can change, Keyblade wielder. It is set in stone as you see it. You can fight against the tide like all men do, but soon you will let it pull you where it wills, knowing that this is how it must be.”

“I won’t,” Braig snarls weakly. “I won’t let this happen.”

The mage just smiles. “But you will. But you do.”

okay, so he’s alive again—not that he ever really died, but that’s all semantics—but seeing one of his apprentices here is more than a shock. they were all supposed to die. he saw it, through the gazing eye. luxu watched it all unfold, as he was supposed to. that’s how it happened, right? the keyblade war was supposed to claim everyone other than the dandelions. everything was supposed to go as planned.

but here she is. invi. battle-torn and apparently exhausted, but here all the same.