#astralrings

@astralrings liked x for a starter.

𝐃rifters nostrils flare, inhaling sharply as the crisp air enters his lungs. The mixture of cigarette smoke and Cursed Apple smog fills his being as he glances down from his perch. Blackened, stained claws curling around the roof of a building as his shadow eclipses itself over the other. Red glowing irises peering down from the darkness of his face as he purrs. Voice low and melodic - the devil itself cooing at the other.

"You as paranoid as a rabbit in an open field, pauvre ti bete. Keep jumpin' outa' ya skin - then bad people gonna spot you quicker than you comfortable with."

The back of his hand raises, wiping the corner of his mouth as his unwavering grin remains plastered on his face. Eyes narrowing with amusement.

THREE WORD PROMPTS .

Oh she knows.

There's a bitterness that lingers in the air, that causes her nose to scrunch and eyes to narrow. Long gone is the idea of marriage, to live that perfect life that had been so beautifully painted. Now, stained and torn, lies a road unnavigated and yet stirs a new desire.

That said, she can still harbor an annoyance for what was taken.

— @astralrings ;

“do you believe in omens?”

"i ought to, at least." saran shrugs. their tribe has always been full of teachings about omens and signs and the balance of the world around them. the conflict between nhaama and azim, which is not one at all depending on who answers the question, the kagon way of living in the shadows and under the safety of a moonlit sky.

saranzayaa used to believe the tales, young and curious and easily influenced. now, after having left the steppe and wandered the outside world, their perspective has shifted significantly.

"it's nice to have something to believe in," he says. "omens are usually bad, so i try not to pay attention to them when someone points them out." saran winks. "whatever happens, happens. omens or not."

Distant stars shine in the nocturnal dome, leaving patterns of lights whenever their flares blaze to move elsewhere. There was once upon a time when Cartethyia thoughts of them as naught more than celestial objects. Worlds out of their reach at most in days where her flights of imagination were at their highest. But to make each of them hold precious information so that one day the totality of human effort will one day lead them to salvation from the Lament, perhaps even from the Etheric Sea... ◜I have entered various spaces of Imperator's creation before. All of them had a common denominator: a sky full of stars.◞ Were any of them real, a projection of the true space beyond the Etheric Sea's unyielding presence? Or perhaps... ◜Many are the probabilistic futures They had calculated, and many more the fates They had crafted for Rinascita to counter them. Do you believe that all those stars are of Their conception, too?◞

☥ @astralrings ♥︎ed for a starter!

Mina hates them.

She hates their stupid scarf, their jacket and their weird briefcase. There's a lingering annoyance of what happened several years ago, that it's their fault her life turned upside down. So yes, she hates them.

... Right?

It had been some time since they'd last crossed paths with the Nihility Emanator. The clinking of glasses and pouring of drinks sounded as Shush busily prepared a drink for their guest, the robot breezily pouring together a medley of different drinks that would ultimately become a cocktail Acheron would be able to partake in, hopefully strong enough for her tastes.

A hand rests nonchalantly on the hip, as the blond-haired individual regarded the list of inquiries in front of them. Occasionally Void Archives would entertain such nonsensical and utterly illogical games, as they oft were prompted to contemplate on matters previously unconsidered.

Their first impression of your muse: A shrug, another nonchalant gesture, as those impressions and memories were muddled by a presence of another consciousness, which possessed a tendency to influence their perception. No more. "No one of import, aside from being recognized as Herrscher of Reason." That person was under incessant scrutiny by another, claimed his undivided attention, but who was no longer alive.

Current impression: A free hand was lifted to imitate the gesture of contemplation, at leisure rubbing the chin with the fingertips and tilting the head from one side to the other; yet eventually a thin line of lips bent into an impish curve, abandoning the image of pretentiousness. The eyes of soulium avatar glowed with bright gold, as Void Archives hesitated to reveal own opinion in earnest for a few more instants. "A foolish man. Too intent on sacrificing own life for an unworthy cause." Their tone saturated with utmost discontent, as that man's martyrdom irritated immeasurably.  

Are they attracted to your muse?: Another tilt of the head, as confusion settled upon their image. The inquiry was comprehensible, yet the notion possessed various implications, none that were deemed plausible by the divine key. "I am bereft of human attachments." Despite the apparent estrangement of the statement, guided by unbeknownst reasoning (which they may disclose later), Void Archives followed that man into another universe.  

Something they find frightening about your muse: Scarcely distinct smile tugged at the corners of their lips, a long exhalation found its way out of their mouth, Void Archives stood amidst endless rows of books, yet their gaze was directed into the perpetual void of their library. "His convictions are inviolate, no matter how many times he was betrayed or left to die. He gets up and walks on. A naivety?" An apparent sadness permeated their voice, entwined with pity and disdain in equal measure.

Something they find adorable about your muse: Their expression instantly changed to one that of immense elation, a wide smile stretched their lips. "That disgusting faith in humanity. Makes me sick." Yet each word was dripping with venom, adorably repulsive.  

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?: Anew their eyes glowed upon reading the inquiry, their core pulsed with incomprehensible sensation (?), fear (?), compelling Void Archives to designate part of own consciousness to calculate the probability of that man committing yet another brazen act and concoct any prevention measures. The prompt lay heavily upon their mind and at that time it remained without a vocal response. To risk rending self non-functional for a human? For that man they would. He would.  

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic: A disapproving shake of the head accompanied their every word. "The trip to this universe already seems like one." With a monotonous voice they quoted a passage from a dictionary, intentionally or not, omitting the romantic undertone. "A planned meeting between two people, focused on interactions between two individuals within new circumstances and surroundings, and outside from casual hang-outs with friends. "  

One word my muse would use to describe yours: Almost instantaneously the exact word jumped from the tip of their tongue. "Obstinate." The sheer exhaustion in their empty tone could have dried the entire ocean.

Would my muse slap yours if they could?:  With another shrug a query of own escaped him. "Why would I?" Void Archives could not claim self to be a well-behaved individual, yet they merely did not perceive any logical reason why would they act like that towards Welt.

Would my muse hug/kiss yours?: An audible chuckle slipped in between their slightly parted lips, a response almost was vocalized, yet it was sealed behind closed lips, when a rather humorous idea materialized on their mind. "Only after he will remove the Star of Eden from his favorite Divine Key spot. Everyone knows the Key of Revelation is supposed to be there." With an ostentatiously offended huff, their decision was made.