#banalras

At his most honest reaction, Winfred feels intensely glad he hasn't been in the process of drinking when Arie makes their statement, because he's sure to have choked on it. He nearly regrets he didn't just die on the spot. If only the ground could swallow him whole just now, he'd happily let go of any lingering resentment.

The thing is, he isn't one to be particularly shy about these things. He's had countless of flings and ill-fated romances, so such a bold statement has been said and done; his resume holds a large list that isn't limited to just Val Royeaux's special, after all. Such a thing is best left unsaid, though, in this case.

It's not even the fact that they kissed that gets him; the cut on his lip has already healed and he has long since given up on a notion of something more ever happening between them. The most Fred hoped for was to lessen Arie's resentment of him enough so his letters would get replies before he died.

Rather, it's the hot and cold whiplash that catches him off guard.

Should have post it waaaayyy sooner, I've made it at least two months ago ^^;

A tired, pale face welcomes the words. Now more than before, it's clear that the two of them are no longer children now and have been worlds apart for years. Winfred has felt on shaky grounds ever since returning, and the words of someone that was once a person he had called friend shake him more than he wishes to admit. Are they even still friends? Can he call him that, would Aridhel agree to such a sentiment? With no real knowledge of what the other has been through, Winfred has no answers to his own questions and a part of him is afraid to ask.

The rumours Win has actually heard, the stories, plenty of them have reached him through the mouths of old friends, but having been raised in a place where secrets are a currency, he knows better than to believe it without scrutiny.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @qbanalras​ !!!

I really like Darkwoodtale that I found fascinating, and I love the characters' design (especially Frisk, he’s so great!) So here's your Darkwoodtale Frans! X3

Undertale (c) Toby Fox

Darkwoodtale (c) @qbanalras​

BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST, accepting

the faint glow of the barrier isobel provides, illuminates arie’s features. most of the others have retreated to the beds jaheira offered them, but tazdril doesn’t feel the exhaustion yet. there’s something familiar about the constant darkness. he’s almost homesick for a home that never provided a home. their trip to the underdark was too familiar and a constant reminder of his first years after leaving his home to truly relax. and he was still too conflicted to unpack eilistraee granting him the phalar aluve.

the shadowlands appear to be an in-between from the sunlit faerûn to the depths of the underdark. yet as dangerous as any of their previous travelling. “ these are not normal shadows, ” he speaks with a deep voice. “ we don’t know what creatures might hide in there. ” and then there is the heart of the absolute, and his chest itches to plunge his sword right through it. he’s avenged many villagers and travelers, but nothing could compare to eradicating a vile plot like this.

“ but i understand what you mean, ” he continues. arie is a rogue, like astarion, and to them the shadows are their most useful asset. and he once did the very same. he was a competent assassin before he picked up his sword for a different cause. “ for a time at the menzoberranzan, all i did was be in the shadows. ” to fear them would be to not understand what they can provide.

Princess Mononoke (1997) Starters, always accepting!

@banalras: "when you're going to kill a god, let someone else do your dirty work."

❝     that's   not   what   this   is.     ❞  

he   volunteered,   not   just   as   a   teammate   skilled   in   the   art   of   murder,   but   as   a   crow   bound   by   a promise.   it   wasn't   about   dirty   work,   it   was   about   trust   –   she   trusted   him   with   the   knife,   the   only   weapon   capable   of   killing   a   god,   &   in   his   expertise   to   wield   it.   that   he'd   drive   it   in   the   chests   of   their   foes   &   not   hers.

valeria   flexes   her   gloved   fingers,   noting   its   absence.   

as   they   slip   through   the   crevices   of   a   fortress   on   fire,   sounds   of   shouting   &   clanging   steel   press   in around them. she struggles to find the shape of a child, & to breathe.

❝     he's   the   assassin,   &   we   have   a   contract.     ❞