#antimundi

— ❝Tell me, Noctis, what it is you want from the Oracle. I have gone through far too much to have what little remains of my life be taken away without a good enough explanation.❞ She knows far too well what this descendant of Lucius is capable of. Yet with all the animosity she has held with her, her spirit was too broken by the visions that have been haunting her dreams to do more. All she could do was stand before the other, waiting to hear what he had to say.

❝What more could you possibly want that those wretched Eyes of Etro haven’t already given you?❞

❝  Too  bad  you’re  late.  I’ve  already  cleaned  house.  ❞        Words  like  his  churn  in  brackish  waters;  a  measure  of  volatility  and  expectation.  Sizing  up.  Sight  sways  towards  spied  royalty,  compelled  by  the  power  that  emanates;  death-ridden,  different than  his  own,  and  his  first  instinct  is  to  test  their  ropes.  With  one  slight  motion,  pressure  cracks  the  splitting  skull  of  the  daemon’s  head  lodged  beneath  his  boot.  Steel  slides against  hide,  as  he  pulls  out  the  singed  blade  he’d  been  leaning  upon;  exhaust  still marked  with  pulsating  heat.      Ready  still,  despite  everything.

        ah. hm. ooohhhh,                 goodness... 

not a fidget for anyone to detect -- though she be caught in headlights already, for once merrill is still & quiet. if only the stupid stupid glass stuck in her foot wouldn’t have cracked or creaked or, shrieked-ish, rather, as one stumbled to a halt on posh floors -- drat, there’s going to be a cane involved for leaving blood on that very expensive looking carpet, isn’t there...     oohh...

       there’s this boy, you see.

               & the boy ( ? ) is.                        seems. has this, aura.                 this, this ' hey, did you wanna puke today?? ' type of feel about him. this remarkable sense of ' why did you get up this morning? '. ( not for this, that’s what. finally had a proper hot breakfast & like to lose it already! hmmmmmmmm, damn. )

oh. ohhh oh oh oh oh o- if only varric taught his words.

" ---oh, uhm! sorry! i was just, erm- "  staring. intensely.  " -lost. ehrem. "  creators, have mercy.  " very sorry to be in your-"  palace?  "-house. ”  

          whatever keeps one’s tongue loose & quick on the regular stands little chance against... today. ( demon? not quite. which makes him less predictable- ) it appears that answers are in order,.. & the heavy tang of something on the air leaves one short of wish for words.  

                      “ uhm. i fell through- a mirror? "

a truth, one that might become very unfortunate indeed... haha, nooo, that’s just paranoia. for sure. yes, cuz everyone loves random elves in their home.

@antimundi

He couldn’t deny a chance to show off his weapons. After all, that was part of the deal. Give them a good show just in case they sparked an interest, especially from a rich mafiasto. Despite his Quirk, he was not known for his physical build. At least, that’s what he wanted people to think. Underneath his leather exterior, wiry and toned muscles lurked, hinting that the arms boss was not a stranger to physical work.

Everything was information. Everything could be used. Even the hints of what Noctis did was information alone that Hizashi could use if he ever needed to. The man loved to stockpile his info. So, a spar had been a way to asses abilities. 

When he was pinned to the floor, it knocked the wind out of him, but all he did was grin up at the King. Impressive move. As Noct warped away, the villain sat up in order to rub at his neck, still all smiles.

      “Damn. Knocked some sense into me.”

    Well, as far as palaces went- this one was rather impressive on the outside. But, the redhead didn’t feel at all welcome here (when did she ever?), more for the ominous feeling surrounding this place. Her mama always said that her senses were far too sensitive for her own good, mother always knew best. Rest her soul. Still, a job was a job and at least the opulence assured her that she would actually get paid this time.

    Last time to she had to break into the fortress to get the money herself- and the idiot general’s eyes as warning to anyone else who tried to skint her. She’d rather not do the same to any royalty, messy business. Still, being hired to help solve some deeply rooted politcal matters seemed almost too much trouble for what it was worth- but, something in her gut told her to at least scope it out. Her gut was usually right.

    The guards didn’t seem all that keen to let her through to the main hall where she was to meet her employers- she gussied up for no one, royalty be dammed. Her clothes, already foreign in nature, were weathered and bore the lingering marks of past exploits. Hardly the clothes befitting a woman. Who gave a fuck. The guards did, only letting her through after she waved her summons bearing the royal seal in their arrogant faces and letting her pass. Some footman announced her name- and tried for her country but failed, settling for ‘of the west’ instead. Typical. Still, she stopped at a respectable distance but didn’t bow until her employer addressed her, and even then it was only a slight tip of the head at most.

    “I hope I’m not late, would hate to miss the party after coming all this way. Are you the one who summoned me, highness?” she held up her papers for emphasis. Some people were probably appalled by her coarse manner, but then again she wasn’t here for their approval now. Besides, it was easier to gauge just what kind of employer she’d be dealing with.